Slave Seth
by DirtyShieldBrothers
Summary: Seth Rollins wants to be the face of WWE so badly he's agreed to a slave contract with Stephanie McMahon and her husband, Triple H, equal to that of his title reign. He reunites with former Shield brother, Dean, they become lovers, and Seth begins to rebel against his owners. Only Dean can help him recover from the deep pain that results. (BDSM, WS, non-consent, FM, MM, FMM)
1. Chapter 1

It had been a busy, stressful time for Seth. A pay per view three nights ago, RAW two nights ago, and Smackdown last night. He was beyond tired; he was exhausted, and slept in on Wednesday morning. Fortunately, so did his Master and Mistress, Hunter and Stephanie. He beat them awake, there would be no tumbler of icy water cast upon him by Master, or thrown at him, tumbler and all, by Mistress.

As usual, Seth was tethered by his chain, hooked into his leather harness. He wore expensive gold dog tags studded with diamonds. One had his name, the other was engraved _Property of The Authority._ Other than that, he was nude beneath his paw print blanket. His puppy bed was a futon mattress on the floor in his owner's bedroom. His custom-made lead was padlocked to the end of the bed, on Master's side. Lots of slack chain between his "bed" and theirs, but not enough to wander much beyond it, not that he had a reason to. His water bowl was beside his bed, his name was even etched on it. He was a spoiled and pampered pet, he was champion, and he was getting a huge, huge push. He was on top of the professional wrestling world, and all he'd needed to do was become the pet slave of the kinky power couple in charge of it all. Mistress had approached him with the idea when he was still in The Shield, and he'd agreed to a span of servitude equal to that of his title reign. When he cashed in Money in the Bank, his life as theirs began.

He waited for Master to awaken and take him outside. Seth's restroom privileges were strictly controlled. He was only allowed to use it during his shower time and while working or at work functions. Otherwise he had to go out back, walked on a leash by Master, usually, or use puppy housebreaking pads.

Seth's tether wasn't long enough (purposely) to reach his puppy pads. He had no choice but to wait, his bladder aching. He had to go so bad he thought he'd be sick. He whimpered a little, and when that didn't work to rouse Master, he got out of bed and began to pace back and forth. The rattling chain woke Master.

"Lay down, Seth!" He ordered grumpily.

"I...Sir, I can't. I really need to take a piss, Sir," Seth said, quickly, and helplessly whimpered again as his bladder cramped. He had to hold himself.

"Damn it, Seth. Just hold it," Master ordered. He got out of bed, naked and awkward with sleepiness. He wrapped his nudity in a black robe. Seth always felt superior whenever he saw Master's dick; he didn't have much of one at all, whereas Seth was blessed with a far more sensual length, and thickness.

Master unlocked the chain from around the end of the bed and led Seth outside. Seth was allowed to walk normally in the yard, but had to get on all fours, like a puppy, to piss. Sometimes Master wouldn't notice when he stopped, and tugged him over, but this morning he was paying attention, and stopped when Seth did.

After Seth was relieved, he followed Master back into the house. In the bedroom, he unlocked Seth's harness, and Seth slipped it off, and slipped into what he thought of as his uniform: black boxer briefs and a jailhouse-orange t-shirt with _PROPERTY OF THE AUTHORITY_ printed on the back in big, bold, black letters. Then, he went to do his morning chores.

First, he prepared breakfast and espressos for his owners, and breakfast for himself, which he ate while making the espressos. He set up Mistress's meal and drink in her home office; she did not pamper herself in the morning. Master, however, took breakfast in bed. He carried the tray to the bedroom where Master lay under the covers, naked again. Mistress had already gone, as usual. Seth set the tray down, then knelt on the floor to wait for Master to need something.

Master made short order of the food it had taken Seth more than half an hour to prepare, while answering emails and texts on his phone. Seth took the tray away, and when he returned, Master was out of bed. "I need a shower," he said.

Seth went to the master bath to turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature to what he knew Master favored. He hoped Master wouldn't make him come in, but of course he did; he _always_ did. Sometimes he just told Seth to wash his back, but other times he wanted more.

Seth took off his uniform and followed Master into the shower. He tried to think of it as a crowd shower in a locker room, but of course, it wasn't. This wasn't him and his fellow actor athletes after a practice or show, fucking around playfully with each other. This was showering with the boss, in his shower, at home.

"Wash me," Master commanded.

Seth washed Master's back, and held out the washcloth for Master to take.

"Stupid Seth, I meant everywhere."

Seth washed Master's whole body, head to toe, only passing over what he tried not to look at, Master's pathetic, tiny cock and shriveled balls.

" _All_ of me, Seth. Use your hands, not the washcloth."

Seth washed the organs and perineum as quickly and clinically as he could. Still, the little cock got a little fat. _Oh no..._ Seth thought, just as Master seized him by the hair and forced him down. Seth tried to plead with Master with his eyes, like any puppy dog would, but Master was unmoved.

"I've got two words for you... _SUCK IT!"_ He grabbed Seth's head with both his hands and forced him to do just that.

It wasn't the first time so Seth no longer had to fight the urge to gag, but it didn't get any less degrading. It always went as long as Master wanted it to last; high and mighty Master struggled to get a full erection, let alone reach orgasm. Age and history of steroid use had left him with prostate problems and hormone imbalances. Again, Seth felt an air of superiority, even with a limpish peanut dick in his pretty mouth.

After only a few minutes, Master released him. "Get me a towel."

Seth did as he was told, and wrapped a second towel around his hips. He dried Master's back, but Master did the rest himself, and ordered Seth to lay out his clothes for the office; Wednesdays were the usual casual days, and from Master's walk-in closet Seth put together a nice outfit of charcoal gray dress pants, a white and gray striped dress shirt, and soft loafers. From the built-in drawers, Seth pulled out a pair of charcoal gray socks, and snickering, a gray bikini brief from a drawer of many. Master seemed to have a fetish for bikini briefs and thongs; he had dozens and dozens in every color of the rainbow, some were lacy and very feminine. Seth would never forget struggling not to laugh one afternoon while spotting for Master, who was bench pressing wearing nothing but a silky blue thong trimmed in white lace and a red ribbon rose.

But, with Master doing his grooming in the bathroom, Seth was safe to chuckle. He made the bed and straightened his own things. He hung his lead and harness neatly, and folded his blanket. He sat down on his mattress and waited for Master to come out of the bathroom.

Finally, he did, and ordered Seth to get ready. Seth slipped into the smelly master bath with relief. It was the only unbound, unsupervised alone time he enjoyed in his servitude, and even Master taking a shit (sometimes not even flushing), right before leaving didn't spoil the bathroom sanctuary for Seth. He'd simply spray Febreeze and take his sweet time with his grooming. Shit, shave, but he usually opted for the Jacuzzi tub rather than the shower. Unless, of course, he was told to hurry.

Not this morning, though. He was free to soak in the bubbles until the bathwater cooled. The bathwater itself he scented with blue salts smelling of a tropical shore. But too soon, the water cooled, and Seth reluctantly drained the tub and toweled off. He cleaned the bathroom and got dressed in his uniform; the orange jail shirt and black boxer briefs.

"Seth! Seth, get your lazy ass in here!" Master called him from the kitchen.

Seth hurried to Master and froze in shock. The kitchen, which Seth had left clean and sparkling, had been defiled.

"I was still hungry, so I thought I'd get myself a bowl of cereal. I'm afraid I... made a bit of a mess." Master stifled a laugh.

Seth looked at the Lucky Charms and milk all over the counter, table, and floor, and grew red from impotent anger, which dissolved into despair. Tears welled in his eyes as he soaked up the mess on the table with paper towels. He sniffled.

"Are you _crying?_ " Master demanded.

The tears spilled over, but Seth said nothing. If he spoke, he'd say something so ugly Master would destroy him, literally or just career-wise, but to Seth, career was everything. He _had_ to be the best of the best, he would die if he had to wrestle in TNA, abroad, or even worse in some regional outfit.

"You _are_ crying, aren't you?" Master asked, but his tone was mock disbelief, devoid of any caring.

Seth stayed mute, working on the mess Master had made on purpose. The tears continued to fall. He wished Master would leave him alone.

"Honey, come on, we've gotta go," called Mistress to Master.

"What about stupid Seth?" he asked her.

"I guess he can come along. You know how everyone always wants to see the champ," Mistress replied.

"You hear that, Seth?" Master asked. "Stop crying and get ready to go to the office."

Mistress laughed. "He's crying?" She looked to confirm it. "Fuck yeah he is...Seth, there's no crying in wrestling! Hunter, what the hell did you to him?"

"Nothing out of the usual," Master replied, and he and Mistress shared a laugh.

"Maybe a day at the office isn't the best thing for our champion," Mistress pondered.

"No, Ma'am, I want to go, please, Ma'am!" Seth begged.

Master and Mistress whispered back and forth for what seemed like an eternity to Seth.

"Okay, you can come along," Mistress said in the same tone she would use with a dog. "Hurry up and get dressed up nice. Don't forget your belt."

Seth hurried back to the master bedroom to dress in his best for the office, all in black, dog tags hidden beneath his dress shirt. He didn't forget his championship belt, either. Nor would he forget what it symbolized, ultimate success.

"There now, don't you look nice? Mistress half-complimented. "Do you need to go outside and go potty before we leave?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Okay, get in the car."

Seth loved going into work now that he was the champion, he was the center of attention. Also, he and his owners had agreed to a suspension of BDSM in the workplace. He was as free as they were. He went out for a late lunch with Joey and Jamie, and posted about it on Instagram. He posed with a few random fans for pics, and signed a few autographs. He hung out with the writers and peeked at future storylines. He stopped by video editing and watched some commercials featuring himself.

Too soon, it was time to go to a late dinner in town. Just him and The Authority, in a private dining room at an upscale steakhouse. Due to the intimacy, and the amount of liquor his owners consumed, some of the BDSM tendencies kicked back in, and Seth was ordered to drink, too.

He took it slow, but by the time the meal was over, he was feeling warm, fuzzy, buzzed. He excused himself.

"No, I don't think so," Master said.

Seth froze. His bladder, which felt like a hot ball, due to the alcohol, cramped. Seth winced, and sat down quickly, and rocked back and forth.

"I don't know, Hunter. I don't want him peeing all over the car," Mistress ventured.

"Good point," Master agreed. "You may be excused," he told Seth.

"Thank you, Sir." Seth hurried from the room, blushing.

Master and Mistress just looked annoyed. When Seth came back to the table, Mistress was signing a credit card slip for the check.

Time to go back to where he'd been staying since he'd won the title. He couldn't think of it as "home". He had a pretty good feeling he was going to have a bad night. When Mistress drank, she got horny, and mean. The combination never bode well for Seth. Since Master was unable, Seth would stand in for whatever Mistress wanted with a cock, while Master watched, or helped, or …

In the master bedroom, Seth was ordered to undress. He did, his heart beating hard. He was scared. He felt a drop of cold sweat run down his spine, all the way to the crack of his ass. He knew it was going to hurt. His bladder throbbed and he felt like he was going to be sick, and nothing to do with the liquor. Master locked him into his harness, but rather than hooking up his lead, Seth was ordered to drink three shots.

Seth wanted to protest, he _really_ didn't want to drink any more. He didn't want to get sick or have a hangover, which would lead to him being off all day tomorrow, no good during rehearsal or while practicing his lines. But, he knew that any resistance would only make his experience worse.

The shots did numb him, and he did not turn down the beer offered to help wash them down, a rare mercy from Master. But, the reprieve was short-lived. Before he knew it, he was bent over a dressing table chair and handcuffed to it. Seth relaxed a little; he could handle spankings, paddlings, even the belt. Fortunately, Mistress didn't go further than that, at least she hadn't yet.

"You've been a bad boy, Seth!" Mistress was clad in thigh-high black leather boots and black leather teddy, and carried a paddle, a wooden one like those used for hazing in frat houses everywhere. Seth felt it slam down on his ass, but with the numbing effect of the booze, he didn't feel that part so much. What hurt was his bladder. He'd broken the seal, and every paddle whack made him struggle not to piss. He had to squirm and try to pinch his cock between his legs.

Mistress noticed. "Awww, do you have to pee?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"That's too bad, you'll have to wait."

"But, Ma'am-"

"Butts are for kicking. Hunter is making drinks now, he'll take you out in a bit." She gave him another whack.

"Please, Ma'am, stop," Seth begged, as he tried not to piss.

Mistress giggled. "Stop? But, I'm just getting started."

Master brought the drinks.

"Thanks babe," Mistress said. "Dog needs to go out."

"Bet he does," Master laughed drunkenly.

Seth whimpered. He really didn't want to piss on the carpet, the punishment for that would certainly be something painful as hell, but bound to the chair, it was going to happen. His cock burned with the piss that threatened to leak out, and he knew he could only hold on for another minute, maybe two.

 _"Please,_ Sir, Ma'am! I don't want to piss on the floor, and I'm about to, please don't make me piss on the floor!" Seth begged desperately.,

"You'd better not piss on the floor!" Mistress snapped. "Hunter, take him outside!"

"Alright, alright." Master unlocked the handcuffs and Seth immediately held himself and sat back on his heels. He looked down in amazement at his swollen bladder. No wonder he was sheer seconds from pissing all over the place.

"I really can't hold it, Sir!" Seth cried. "I won't make it outside!"

Mistress laid out a puppy pad where the chair had been, and Seth pounced on it. He tried to piss slowly, to be neat about it, but his poor bladder wanted to explode. The puppy pad was soaked in no time. Lucky for Seth, Mistress had laid out another, because he couldn't stop pissing. He could slow the flow, but his body wanted the piss out, and pushed it out in huge gushes. The second puppy pad was reaching capacity. Mistress put down a third, and a fourth, and stood back, shaking her head.  
Seth was finally able to regain control over himself, and by the time he reached the fourth pad, he took a moment to recover. He sat back on his heels. He knew there was still more piss left in him, but his bladder hurt.

"Are you finally done?" Mistress asked.

"No!" Seth almost snapped, but he caught himself, and tacked on a "Ma'am".

"Hurry up, I'm not done with you, yet."

 _Of course not,_ Seth thought, bitterly as he made his sore bladder work somewhat, in short spurts. He thought it was finally empty, but because he'd been made to drink, he knew he'd need to go again soon, unless he drank some water.

Seth went to get the trashcan, and sneak a glass of water. He cleaned up his mess, and took the trashcan back to the kitchen, sneaking in another glass of water. The water made him feel a lot better. He wasn't as drunk, and his somewhat queasy stomach was calmed.

When he went back to the master bedroom, he was immediately handcuffed by Master, and led to the Tool Shed. Seth noticed Master's femme black thong, mesh with floral embellishments, and almost laughed aloud. In the Tool Shed, Seth was led to the ring (a smaller version of where he was a star) and handcuffed to a ring post, between the middle and lower turnbuckles. He could sit, but not stand.

Mistress approached, vibrating tool in hand, lube in the other. She dripped the ice-cold lube into Seth's lap, and began using the tool on him. Seth got hard. "Good boy," Mistress praised, and straddled him.

She rode him, and Seth did his best to think sexy thoughts, but it was hard to stay hard when his boss was twisting his nipples, slapping his face, and pulling his hair. Her nails scratched deep into his shoulders. Seth did not enjoy pain. All he could do was hope she came soon, and to help, he adjusted his hips, thrusting the entire length of his cock into her.

That did the trick. Mistress cried out, raked her nails down his back, and Seth felt her orgasm. Master watched with approval, stroking his man-pantied crotch. Seth lost his erection immediately.

Cold and businesslike, Mistress got up and wrapped herself in a silk robe. It was a symbolic gesture, she was done for the night. But, Master wasn't.

"I can't cum, but all those drinks made me need a piss. I think I'll use Seth," Master decided.

"Oh! That's a great idea!" Mistress exclaimed. "I was going to go to the bathroom, but why bother? I can piss on Seth, too!"

Laughing, Mistress crouched on the bottom rope, grabbed the top rope to steady herself, and pissed right on Seth's chest. "Come on, Hunter! This is fun!"

Mistress's piss ran down his chest and belly off into the ring. Master, not wanting to step in it, chose to piss on Seth's face, from the steel steps. Master's piss ran into the scratches on Seth's shoulders and made them sting, and once Master realized that, he concentrated his stream there, instead.

Master uncuffed him once they'd finished pissing on him, and took off his harness. "Since you've been a good boy, you don't need to sleep in this tonight."

"Thank you, Sir." Seth was truly grateful, the harness was terrible to sleep in.

"Clean up your mess and go to bed."  
"Yes, Sir. May I shower, Sir?"

Master considered it. "I guess so. After you clean up your mess."

"Yes, Sir." Seth cleaned up the Tool Shed, showered, and happily went to bed on his futon mattress. He fell asleep right way, dreaming of greatness.


	2. Chapter 2

"You were terrible in the mic tonight," Corporate Kane told Seth. "And, that's something you were supposed to be working on. Hunter and Stephanie aren't going to be happy."

Seth wasn't happy either. It was his owners' faults he'd done so poorly during the opening promo of _RAW_. The drive from the house took nearly five hours, and while they'd gotten Seth there in time for the show, poor Seth didn't have time to stop by the locker room for a much-needed piss beforehand. He'd told his owners he was desperate to piss at least half a dozen times on the way, but they didn't care. Neither did the production team; he tried telling them, too, but they just hurried him out through the curtains. During the whole promo all he could think about was how badly he had to piss. He felt asinine because he couldn't stand still. He flubbed his lines three times, and totally lost composure the third time. When it was finally over, he nearly lost it trying to get out of the ring quickly, and had to stop, in the middle of the ropes, all efforts focused on not pissing himself. After a few, endless seconds, the cramp eased, and Seth was able to walk off stage. Once he was behind the curtains, he ran, terrified he wouldn't find a men's room in time. But, he did.

"I did the best I could," Seth tried to explain. "I really had to piss; it was so bad I thought I was going to piss myself right there and-"

"Oh really, _Tyler?_ I couldn't tell," Kane said, sarcastically.

Seth blushed hotly. He hated being reminded of those days. "My name isn't Tyler. And, do you think I wanted to make an ass out of myself? I almost pissed myself in front of thousands of fans, and on live TV!"

"You know you're supposed to go before the show."

"I didn't have time."

"You should have been here hours ago! When did you leave the house?"

Seth could only look at his feet. "It was beyond me. I rode with the Authority."

Kane smiled, but it wasn't a friendly smile, it was a sly smile. "I thought so...I thought so..." He caught sight of the gold chain around Seth's neck, and reached to pull the dog tags out. He laughed as he read them. "Oh yeah, I knew it."

Seth felt as if his whole world was about to collapse. Kane knew his secret. "Buck up, champ." Kane shook his shoulder roughly. "Secret's safe with me, my friend."

Seth wasn't sure about that. He forced an awkward smile.

"There's that jackassy grin we all love. You'd better not screw up in your match against Dolph tonight. I'm sure the repercussions from your shitty promo will be bad enough." Kane laughed.

His laughter chased Seth from the makeshift office. He didn't fail one bit in his match against Dolph, he hit all his moves and sold all of Dolph's, and got a dirty victory, as scripted. But, as Kane had said, the repercussions from his embarrassing promo would be bad enough. He dreaded the night to come.

It took place in a hotel suite in New York. High in the sky, Seth shakily got undressed. Naked, he knelt before his owners, hoping his meekness would make them go easy on him.

"That was the _worst_ promo ever!" Mistress spat.

Seth bowed his head in shame.

"We expect only the best from our champion, the face of our company. We chose you, we gave you the belt, and you get in the ring and give us the equivalent of a first grader's Christmas concert." Master ranted. "Did you even _try_ to do a decent promo tonight?"

"Yes, Sir, of course-"

"All that trying for a mess of fidgeting and verbal diarrhea," Master shook his head. "At a live show, no less."

"I tried to do my best, Sir, I really did." Pathetically, Seth tried to explain himself. "I just had to piss, and you knew that because I told you."

"No excuses, pet," Mistress told him. "The show must go on. If you needed to go so bad, you should've done so before you got in the ring.

"There was no time, production just pushed me out. I couldn't focus-"

"Mind over bladder," Master reminded him.

 _You're one to talk,_ Seth thought, remembering the time Master pissed himself on _RAW_.

"Are you casting a defiant eye, Seth?" Mistress asked.

Seth shifted his gaze back down. "No, Ma'am. No, Sir."

His owners conferred with one another for a moment, and Mistress left for the master bedroom. Seth almost thought that this scolding would be as far as his punishment went; that they would all go to bed and tomorrow it would be forgotten. But he was wrong.

"There's a bigger issue, Seth," Master began, and instantly, Seth knew it was Kane. He broke out in a cold sweat as his fear rose. "It seems you slipped and told Kane about our...arrangement."

Seth's heart raced. "I didn't meant to, Sir! He was coming down on me so hard for messing up my promo, and I was just trying to explain why I'd arrived too late to prepare; that I'd ridden with you, and he just smiled all creepy and said 'I thought so'."

Master shook his head. "You showed him your dog tags."

"No, he pulled them out of my shirt!" Seth objected.

To his surprise, Master nodded, and patted Seth with casual affection. "Yes, he already knew they were there. This was a test for you, my pretty boy pet. Kane is part of the Authority, too, and he's known all about you from the start. Steph and I wanted to know how discrete you were, so she came up with the idea to have Kane get on you, to see if you'd spill the secret, and you didn't. You passed the test."

Again, Seth allowed himself hope of a reprieve. Master was being gentle, as gentle as he'd ever been to Seth. Seth let himself relax a little. He was tired and sore.

"But," Master continued, "you still really fucked up that promo."

"I'm ready for him, Hunter," Mistress called from the bedroom, and Master led Seth inside. Mistress was kneeling on the bed, naked aside from a strap-on dildo roughly the size of Seth's cock when it was hard.

"Position five," Master ordered.

"I need a piss break," Seth said. He was scared. He'd not been mounted in a long time, and never with something that wasn't the real thing, and not something so big.

Mistress pushed on Seth's lower tummy until he winced. "No you don't. If you could hold it during your crappy performance, you can hold it now. Position five."

Seth got on all fours, height of his ass adjusted for Mistress. Master slipped his shriveled cock and balls out of a sheer, flesh-colored thong, and obedient Seth sucked them as Master prepped his tight ass with lube and probing fingers. As soon as Master declared he was ready, Seth was mounted.

Mistress seized him by the hips, her manicured fingernails clawing into his flesh. The dildo penetrated him rough and deep, and Seth was helpless to cry out when Mistress turned it on and it began to vibrate against his prostate and full bladder. To his surprise, it was more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but each deep thrust made him feel like he was on the verge of either pissing or cumming, and it was so intense he was writing and moaning beneath Mistress, and barely felt her claws or hair pulls. She slammed into him even harder when she came, giving him an extra-deep thrust, and Seth felt himself go, pissing uncontrollably in huge gushes, then an extreme orgasm, so much cum his jewels felt drained of it.

The dildo withdrew, and Seth felt a sharp slap on his ass, well, barely. He was still dazed, not even fully aware he was laying in a pool of his own piss and cum.

"Dirty dog! Look what you've done to your bed!" Mistress scolded, and slapped his ass a few more times. "What ever are we going to do with him, Hunter?"

"His bed, his problem," Master laughed.

"Good thing I told the front desk to put a vinyl sheet on that bed. I told them we were traveling with a bed wetter," Mistress laughed.

"Turned out to be prophetic," Master added.

Seth was blushing. The afterglow had faded away. The small pool was cooling. The piss that escaped had only taken care of the worst of the pressure; his bladder hurt.

"Someone sure likes it when I fuck him in the ass with his new toy," Mistress sang.

Seth didn't reply. He was embarrassed by his body's reaction to what he wanted to think of as rape.

"Come on, Sethie, tell me how much you liked that."

"I need to piss," Seth said, quietly.

"Didn't you already piss your bed enough?" Master asked, and he and Mistress laughed.

"Only a little, I'm still holding the rest and it hurts."

"Then say: 'I love your buttsex, Ma'am', and I'll get you your puppy pads."

What other choice did Seth have? "I love your buttsex, Ma'am."

His owners cracked up, but Mistress did go to the bag of etc. to get the puppy pads. "Oh, no, I forgot the puppy pads... I don't know where you should go potty, Seth."

"I can't take him out here," Master said. "Just finish what you started in your bed," he ordered Seth.

Seth assumed the position he pissed in when Master took him outside, or he had to use a puppy pad (or few).

"Oh no, no, no," Mistress stopped him. "Sit back on your heels and aim your cock up. I want you to pee all over yourself, all the way up to that stupid patch of blonde hair."

Seth was so uncomfortably full of piss that he didn't care where he had to aim it. But, as bad as he needed to, he had trouble pissing. He sometimes did, in awkward situations, and this was definitely in that category. His owners were watching him, expectantly. He closed his eyes, and willed his bladder to work. It wanted to, but Seth was still having problems letting go. He rubbed the head of his cock briskly until the piss came, a short, weak stream that only lasted a few seconds, and only shot up to his belly. He rubbed again, and a steadier, more relieving stream came. He felt a piss shiver, and gave himself to it fully. He leaned forward and pissed in his hair, as ordered, and heady with relief, his mouth. He had drunk almost eight liters of water in preparation for being under the hot lights. He swallowed the piss, and became alarmed when he felt his cock growing fat and hard. Not only was he getting turned on by pissing on himself, in his mouth no less, if he got a full-blown erection, he wouldn't be able to finish. He let go of his cock, and let the rest of his piss tinkle noisily into the puddle he was kneeling in. Another little shiver seized him, and Seth sat back in the puddle. He couldn't believe all that had come from him.

And, of course, he had to clean it up. As he got up to deal with it, Mistress smacked his ass again. "Dirty little fucker," she said, but her tone had just a tang of playfulness, and the fanny-slap wasn't as sharp. "Take a shower and rinse your sheets. See if you can't find a way to hang them on the patio, but make sure they don't fly away."

"Yes, Ma'am."

That night, Seth slept in a real bed and enjoyed unlimited access to his own private bathroom. It gave him hope. Either his passing the Kane test, or surprise pissgasm, seemed to have opened a new door between him and his owners.

He still rose early, did his morning rituals, and once Mistress left the master bedroom of the suite to order room service breakfast for all of them, went to assist Master. He held Master's pathetic, tiny cock while he took forever to do his morning piss, and also dribbled on Seth's hand, but he didn't force Seth to suck him in the shower. Today he just wanted to be washed, then sent Seth to go lay out his clothes.

Since they'd be going to the airport in less than two hours, and flying directly to Atlanta, Seth chose jeans and a casual dress shirt from Master's luggage (which he'd packed a few days ago) along with the pinkest, but also the softest briefs he'd ever seen or felt. Loafers, for an easy security checkpoint screening. Once that was done, Seth turned attention to himself, and got dressed in black jeans that had faded to near-gray, and traded the orange jail shirt for one of his own WWE shirts, the latest one "Never Shuts Up", a parody of Cena's "Never Give Up" shirt. He put on a light, Army-style coat over that, since Mistress disapproved of wearing WWE shirts outside of the ring, or scheduled public appearances. He put on skater shoes for comfort, and made sure his dog tags were under his shirt.

Once Seth and his owners boarded the plane, he was surprised to find himself sitting quite far from them. They were all in first class, of course, but Seth's window seat was in the third row, and his owners were back in the last row before coach. The closer it got to takeoff, the more likely it seemed Seth wouldn't be getting a seatmate. But, he did, and to his utter dismay, it was Kane, the last person on Earth he wanted to spend hours in the sky with. Seth saw Kane grin back at Master and Mistress before he sat down.

"Good morning, Tyler. Surprised to see you able to sit down today," Kane snickered.

"Don't call me that."

"Would you prefer it if I called you Mr. Black?"

"No, neither. Kane, listen, I'm not feeling well, so I'm going to try to sleep, okay?" Seth lied, hoping Kane would leave him alone.

"Hey, can we get a pillow and blanket for sleeping beauty over here?" Kane asked loudly, and pointed down at Seth.

"After takeoff, Sir," a flight attendant replied, as she readied herself for takeoff.

"She'll get you your pillow and blanket as soon as we're done taking off," Kane unnecessarily informed Seth. "I heard you wet the bed last night. Don't worry, I won't let you do it on the plane."

"I'm not going to piss myself!" Seth snapped in a low voice.

"I'm sure that's what you told yourself last night, right before-"

"Shut the fuck up, Kane!" Fucking shit, was there _anything_ his owners didn't share with Kane? "You're not helping me feel any better."

"Maybe you've got a urinary tract infection."

"I _don't_ have a urinary tract infection."

"I said UTI as a euphemism for STD," Kane informed him.

Seth wanted to throttle him. "I don't have one of those, either. Who the hell do you think I am?"

"Do you _really_ want me to answer that, Mr. Black?"

"No, I want you to leave me alone."

The flight attendant brought the pillow and blanket over to Seth. "Want me to tuck you in?" Kane asked.

"I can manage, thanks."

"I'm still going to tell you what I think of you."

Seth blanched, and his palms began to sweat.

"You're one of the best wrestlers on the roster right now. You hardly ever botch, and you put on a show every single time. Watching you in the ring is like watching a dancer."

Seth relaxed. He wiped his clammy hands on the blanket.

"However," Kane continued, "your mic work leaves a lot to improve upon. You need to be professional when you get thrown a curve, whether it's an accidental injury or a word you can't pronounce."

Seth nodded. "You're right."

"Of course I am. Now off to bed, I'll leave you alone."

Seth got as comfortable as he could. Even first-class seats weren't that great. He closed his eyes and mentally rehearsed his promo for _Smackdown_. He did not have a match, just the promo, so he would do it perfect. Nothing like what happened on _RAW_ would ever happen again. He would never give his owners, or Kane, any reason to doubt choosing him. Then, he began to wonder if Kane, being a part of the Authority, was also part-owner of him. How should he behave towards Kane? Was Kane testing him, again? Seth definitely wouldn't be sleeping on this flight.

He felt Kane get up, and a few minutes later, Seth smelled Mistress's perfume as she sat down beside him. Gently, she patted his arm, and Seth pretended to wake up.

"Kane told us you said you weren't feeling well. What's wrong?"

"Just a little headache," Seth lied.

Mistress put the back of her hand against Seth's forehead, and then her own. "Here, take some ibuprofen." She handed him two, and a bottle of water. "We can't have our champion under the weather."

Seth smiled a little, and obediently, took the pills and drank the water. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Try to get some sleep, okay?" Mistress tousled his hair, and left.

Seth closed his eyes again and felt Kane settle in beside him. This time, Seth fell asleep for real, and slept through the rest of the flight.

The _Smackdown_ taping went off without a hitch or hiccup from Seth. After his promo was over, Seth could finally relax. In the locker room, Bo Dallas offered him a back rub, which Seth declined. Bo wasn't appealing to him in the least. He looked like a pig, and smelled like one, too. Seth was willing to bet he even squealed like a pig when he was greased and fucked, but he didn't want any part of that. Dean and Roman, his fellow former Shield brothers, were more to Seth's liking. He wondered if they'd be coming to the after party.

Seth, being the champion, felt obligated to attend, and as property of the Authority, didn't have a choice. The after party was in a private room at an upscale Atlanta nightclub. Bo wasn't invited; Dean and Roman were, but of course, Seth was escorted there by his owners and entourage. Even though they'd agreed to suspend overt BDSM in the workplace and at workplace functions, Seth still felt the need to seek their permission, or approval. When Dean handed him a drink, Seth looked around automatically for Sir or Ma'am before remembering that, for now, he was on his own.


	3. Chapter 3

Under Dean's bad influence, Seth got drunk. He also got high, and admittedly, he overdid it. Two hours in, and he was laying more than sitting in a booth, his formerly sharp black dress clothes were rumpled, and his shoes lay discarded under the table. Beside him, Dean was making wisecracks about Bray Wyatt, who was holding court across the room.

"How much bacteria do think is in that nasty beard?" Dean asked Seth, Roman, and Sheamus.  
"Don't get me wrong, we all have some degree of a beard, but not like that, that's just...ewww." Dean shuddered. "There's probably pieces of food in there and everything."

"Like a whole turkey leg," Roman quipped. "Thanksgiving leftovers!"

The foursome cracked up, then Sheamus exclaimed: "Fuck, I'm going to piss my trousers!"

Roman stood up to let Sheamus out of the booth, and shrugged. "Guess I might as well go too, as long as I'm already up." He followed Sheamus, and left Dean and Seth sitting together.

Seth laughed. "Looks like we're dating."

Dean shrugged, a faraway look in his glassy eyes. _"They_ are. Well, maybe dating isn't the right word, but they've got something going on, Roman and Sheamus."

"Oh yeah?" Seth asked. He liked hearing gossip.

"I think so. They've been spending a lot of time together. Are you feeling that underlying sexual tension pulsing between them?"

"Honestly, I'm not feeling much of anything right now," Seth said, and giggled. "I'm so fucked up."

Dean gave a small smile. "I'll bet. But, anyway, I still say they're lovers." He looked down at his nearly-empty glass and pouted.

Suddenly, Seth realized that Dean was jealous; Dean had feelings for Roman that went beyond friendship and Shield brotherhood. Cute Dean had never hidden his bisexuality, and thanks to the internet, Seth's was no secret, either. Seth touched Dean's shoulder. "Want to go smoke another bowl?"

Dean didn't hesitate. "Yes, yes I would."

Seth clumsily pulled his shoes on. He saw Dean looking at the door to the men's room, where they'd smoked earlier, and where Roman had followed Sheamus. Dean looked hurt. "We'll go out on the patio," Seth said, quickly.

They had the patio to themselves. It was a windy night, and they had to huddle close, hands touching, to light Seth's glass pipe. Seth was aroused, being so close to Dean, smelling his cologne and shampoo, and the leather from his jacket.

After the hacking and coughing were over, Dean said: "I feel...better, thanks."

They were still very close. The sexual tension between them was not underlying, it was so thick Seth swore he could almost see it. "Dean-"

Then they were kissing, frantically. Dean was a delightful kisser, Seth had always known he would be. Seth pulled him close and felt something hard pressed against him where _he_ was hard.

"Mmmm...I had no idea you were bi, Seth!" Dean gushed.

"You little bullshitter," Seth laughed.

"Okay, so I did know, I just didn't know you were into me."

"Well, I am," Seth announced. "So, what do you think?"

Dean hugged him tight and kissed him again. "I think it's great! I gotta ask: Are you a top, or a bottom?"

Seth thought of Mistress mounting him, and Master's old schnitzel in his mouth and giggled, giddy. "A bottom."

"Thought so. I'm a switch."

Before they could resume the make out session, another bottom entered the picture: Bo.

"Hey guys! Mind if I join the party?"

"Yes," Dean replied, flatly.

"Oh, great!" Bo whooped, and slapped Dean's perfect ass playfully.

Seth got right in Bo's ugly face. "What he meant was _yes we mind,_ as in _get the fuck out of here, Bo!"_

"Hey, I was just-"

Seth gave Bo a push towards the doors. "I said, get the fuck out of here, Bo!"

Bo backed away, palms up in submission, and went back inside.

"Who the fuck let him in anyway?" Dean asked.

"If I had to guess, big brother did. I didn't see his name on the guest list, that's for sure."

Dean tried to open the patio door. "Little brother locked us out." He banged on the door, but it was too loud inside for anyone to hear. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I gotta pee, too."

"Someone will come out for a smoke soon," Seth said. He wondered if the moment with Dean had been killed by Bo. If so, he would put an end to Bo's nearly non-existent career. Seth had an "in" with the Authority.

Dean paced back and forth. "Oh, fuck it, I'll just pee right here."

Seth decided to test the waters, so to speak. "Can I aim for you?"

Dean broke into a huge smile. "Hell yeah! Never tried that before. C'mere and help me pee on this plant that looks like the Jolly Green Giant's pubes." He gestured at a potted fern.

Seth laughed, and wrapped his arms around Dean's waist. He bent so he could see, well, somewhat, in the darkness, around Dean's shoulders. He watched Dean undo his jeans and pull down the front of his tighty-whities, and came down with a case of penis-envy; Dean was longer, fatter, and rock hard. Seth wrapped his hands around it, stroking and caressing it, and made Dean moan.

"I hate peeing with a hard on, but I have to go _so_ bad."

"Hurry up and piss, I want to play," Seth said, and stroked Dean's cock. Precum, not piss, came out of it.

"Fuck, Seth, you're not helping! If you want me to pee, _you_ have to stop playing."

Seth forced himself to stop stroking Dean's hot cock, and loosened his hold on it. He felt Dean push, and a short, but forceful spurt of piss came out, which Seth was not able to guide to the fern, it went on the wall, instead. They laughed, and Dean tried again, but nothing.

"I guess I'm not very good at this, am I?" Seth asked, coyly.

"It's not your fault, it's this godawful hard on... Wait, it _is_ your fault!" Dean playfully tickled him.

Seth giggled, and clutched at his sides.

"I need to calm down," Dean admitted, and tucked himself back into his tight jeans. He winced.

Seth led him to a chair. "You look so uncomfortable."

Dean nodded. "Throbbing cock in jeans like these; uncomfortable is an understatement."

Seth, of course, had to grope. He was finding it hard to keep his hands off Dean. "Mmmmm."

"Seth! You're not helping, again! Here I am, willing it to go down so I can finally pee, and you're trying to keep it hard." Dean half-scolded, half-flirted. "Once I pee, I can play. I don't want to, you know, pee when we're doing something."

"I did once," Seth admitted. "But, oddly enough, I also had the most intense orgasm ever."

"Hmmm, interesting. Mind telling me about it?"

Seth had to change up how it went down, of course, he couldn't give up his secret to Dean, who couldn't keep a secret. Not that Dean was intentionally a gossip, he just talked a lot, and sometimes his brain couldn't keep up with his mouth. "I was with this guy-"

"Someone from work?" Dean wanted to know.

"No, a Wall Street broker," Seth lied.

Dean laughed. "Should've known you'd go high-class."

"Yeah, you know me," Seth smiled over his lie so easily bought and continued. "Anyway, he wouldn't let me take a piss before he mounted me. It was the most amazing, intense feeling I ever had. I pissed all over the bed, and came at the same time."

"Wow..." Dean mused.

"Then, I got spanked for making the bed a mess, but I hardly felt it in the afterglow."

"That was a hot story," Dean commented. "I got spanked recently, too."

Seth chuckled. "Yep, by Bo. Fifteen minutes ago. I was there."

"That definitely doesn't count, for anything."

"What did you get spanked for?" Seth wanted to know.

"My teacher spanked me for deploying my army of little soldiers in my pants. She ordered me not to cum, but pushed me to the edge. When I lost it, there was so much jiz I felt like I peed my pants. Looked like it, too."

Seth kissed him softly. "You're so hot."

"Teacher actually ordered me not to cum or masturbate for fifteen days after that, and I've got a week to go, and my balls are ready to pop," Dean's hand automatically went to that area. "She didn't tell me I couldn't have someone else touch me, though, so I guess we're good there."

"But what if I make you cum?"

"I'm sure you will, Seth. What teacher doesn't know won't hurt her."

"You're such a bad boy."

"I know. I'm going to try to pee again. You can watch, but it's probably best you don't touch."

Seth followed back to the potted fern and watched while Dean watered it. "Better now?" He asked, when Dean had finished.

"Yeah, I think I lost ten pounds."

"Good, my turn." Seth undid his dress pants and began pissing into the fern.

"Damn, Seth, you've got a nice cock!"

Seth smiled. "The most famous in all of wrestling entertainment." The fern was saturated, and piss began running out onto the patio. "Oops."

"Bad boy," Dean teased, and stepped out of the river's path.

"I know, I'm incorrigible."

"Surprised you can pronounce that one."

"I can pronounce anything when I'm not live. But, I've gotten better." Seth shook off and put himself away. He smirked at the mess he and Dean had made. A stream ran all the way across the patio to pool in a corner. "I'm such a dirty boy."

"Me, too," Dean added, as he looked for a way off the patio.

"Yeah, you are. Bad influence, too."

"I think we can get down if we jump on the dumpster. It's only five, maybe six feet," Dean said, looking down into the alley.

Seth looked. "Yeah, we fly from higher than this. Look out! _Superstar!"_ He shouted as he leaped. He landed solidly on the lid of the dumpster, and hopped down to the alley. "Come on, Dean!"

Dean jumped down, too, and they embraced and kissed again. Seth couldn't help but grope Dean again, too, and this time, Dean groped him back. They hurried across the street, where their rooms were booked, to Dean's room. As they frantically stripped each other, Seth barely heard Dean say he was sharing the room with Jey, but Jey seldom came back before four.

Naked and hard, Dean and Seth dove for the nearest bed. Dean produced a bottle of lube, and dripped some on to Seth. It was warm, and when Dean wrapped his hand around him, Seth was stunned by the pleasure. "Fuck, Dean..."

Dean smiled, sassy, and dripped some on himself. He guided Seth's hand to where it would pleasure him most, and thrilled Seth jerked him, sensually, slowly. Dean moaned. "Oh, Seth, sweetness, stop!"

Shocked, Seth pulled away, afraid he'd hurt Dean. But, he looked at Dean's squinted face and quivering muscles, and realized Dean was struggling not to cum. Although Seth remembered Dean telling him that he hadn't been able to cum for a week, forbidden to by his "teacher" (whoever that was, Seth still wondered), it was a feather in his cap of many that he'd made Dean feel that good; that he wanted to blow right away. Seth thrust his hips, fucking Dean's hand as he kissed him. "Mmmm, you're so fucking hot."

"I don't want to cum yet," Dean said.

"Can you stay hard and cum again once you do?"

"I did when I was a teenager, but now I need a break in between," Dean admitted, and blushed.

"Me, too," Seth said.

They cooled things a little, just kissing and petting, until Dean's trail of kisses found its way down Seth's belly to his cock. Seth wrapped his fingers in Dean's hair as Dean's lips wrapped around his cock, and everything else dissolved as Seth discovered the wonderment of Dean's delightful oral. Several times Seth thought that he, and even the world, would explode, and Dean would sense that, and switch his method, easing Seth off the peak before building him up again. Seth felt like his soul, his strength, his everything, was in Dean's skillful hands and mouth.

Seth began begging Dean to let him cum. He had never wanted to so badly before.

"Not yet," Dean replied. But, he did cease playing, and laid down beside Seth, their hard cocks side by side.

"I feel so small next to you," Seth admitted.

"Oh, shush," Dean chided. "I don't have more than an inch or so on you. And, yours is sexier; I've got this big vein running right on the top of my shaft, and I hate how purple the head gets when I'm really horny."

Seth looked. His cock _was_ prettier. Both his, and Dean's, were drooling shiny precum. "Yours is still sexier to me," he said.

Dean smiled, and they shared another kiss. Their cocks rubbed together, a hot sensation. Their precum mixed together in a musk, joining the cinnamon scent of Dean's lube.

"Let's see what I can do for you," Seth drawled.

"Tie me up?" Dean asked, excitedly.

Seth grinned. Dean really was a dirty boy. "Sure, but with what?"

Dean produced a pair of handcuffs, and took his belt out of his discarded jeans. "You can use your belt on my other leg," he said, brightly.

Awkwardly, Seth tied Dean to the bed. He'd never done that before; he'd always been the one tied down. But, he could see that Dean was excited, eyes aglow, and breathing fast.

Seth teased him, gently stroking Dean's hot body everywhere, besides his cock. Oh, he would come very close, and Dean would moan and his cock would twitch. He blew hot air on to the purple plum head. "Do you want to cum for me?" Seth asked.

"Oh, fuck yeah I do! I'm not going to try to hold back anymore."

"Good," Seth said, and took Dean's fat cock into his mouth. So different in size and texture from Master's, and tasting of cinnamon lube. In no time at all, Seth had it clean, and tasted only Dean's precum.

"Sixty-nine!" Dean cried. "Please, Seth, I want you."

Seth turned, so Dean could have at him, too. Being back in Dean's mouth was so pleasurable his toes curled, and even though he wanted to moan and cry out, he kept sucking Dean. He hoped he was making Dean feel as good as Dean was making him feel. Panting, he licked and sucked that purple plum while teetering on the edge, about to explode in Dean's mouth.

Just as the first spurt of Dean's cum splattered in Seth's face, Seth shot his load, too. He wrapped his pretty mouth around Dean's cock again, and felt cum hit his throat. He swallowed it, as Dean swallowed his.

Spent, they laid together and shared a bottle of water. Seth tasted his mouth, and enjoyed the feeling of Dean's body beside his. Dean was stroking the blonde streak in Seth's hair. "And they call _me_ the lunatic fringe."

Seth giggled and began tickling Dean. Dean responded tit for tat, and Seth was quite ticklish. "Stop, I gotta piss." Seth wiggled, and held himself like a little boy.

"Awww, that's so cute. And me, too, actually."

Seth got up and headed to the bathroom. "I always do, soon after I cum."

Dean followed. "It's a natural reflex, clears the pipe so you don't pee in stereo later."

Seth sat down on the toilet. "C'mere, Dean. I want your hot piss all over my hot cock."

Dean giggled. "I don't want to make a mess, Seth!" He held himself, and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Seth patted his thighs. "Sit in my lap. You know, like spider-style on a swing."

Dean did, and Seth wrapped his arms around him. He kissed Dean's earlobe. "Let go," he whispered, and felt Dean loosen his grip on himself. Seth felt Dean's hot piss pour onto his groin, and drip noisily into the toilet from his jewels. It felt amazing. He kissed Dean when he, too, started pissing. He was still pissing after Dean had stopped.

"Wow, Seth!"

"Yeah, I can hold a _lot,"_ Seth said, and pissed two more long streams. "My limits have been stretched, most recently on _RAW._ Almost five hours in the car, no time to piss before my promo. I thought I was going to piss my pants the whole fucking promo, but I didn't." Seth got up, and flushed the toilet.

"I don't think I could've handled that," Dean said, as he pulled on his briefs. "I would've peed my pants, for real."

"You're not going to shower?" Seth asked.

Dean grinned and shook his head. "Nuh-uh."

"I wasn't going to, either," Seth admitted. "What dirty boys we are."

Dean nodded eagerly in agreement. "Have you ever peed yourself?"

Seth thought about the self-goldenshower Mistress had ordered him to do. He didn't think that was what Dean was asking though, so he replied: "I've never had an accident, at least not as an adult."

"I peed myself on the way to Arlington, how embarrassing."

"Last week?" Seth asked.

"Yeah." Dean blushed. "I was riding with Jey, Jimmy, and Naomi. There was a problem at the rest area, so I started heading for the woods, but I just couldn't take it anymore. Everyone found out about it, too."

"Awww, poor thing," Seth said, and patted Dean's back.

"The twins were really sympathetic, Naomi, not so much. But, no one told, so I guess all's good."

"Mhmm. I should get back to the party."

"I don't even know how it went on without you," Dean said, and kissed him. "Our champion. _My_ champion."

"Can we do this again?" Seth asked, as he buttoned his shirt.

"I'd love to."


	4. Chapter 4

Back at the party, Seth paused before a mirror in the lobby. He straightened his collar, and walked into the party like he was walking on to a yacht, and right into Kane.

"Why, Tyler, I haven't seen you all night."

"It's Seth." _Dr. My-Sack Yankit, the Lita rapist corpse-fucker_ , he wanted to add, but didn't. "Ambrose and I got locked out on the patio."

Kane laughed. The Bella twins shoved between them, dragging Alicia Fox between _them_. Foxy was moaning that she was going to throw up. "Morning sickness?" Kane called after them.

Seth laughed, and followed Kane to the VIP section. His owners were in a lush, half-moon booth, still enjoying drinks and canapes. "Look who I found," Kane announced. "Seems some smart ass locked our champ and Mr. Ambrose out on the patio."

"Now who would do that?" Mistress asked no one in particular.

Seth answered. "I'm pretty sure it was Bo Dallas, Ma'am. But, I think he was just trying to be funny. You know how he is." Seth had decided not to ask the Authority to find a reason to fire Bo, since Bo's stunt had facilitated his playtime with Dean.

"Indeed," Mistress replied, dryly. "Little weirdo; I can't wait until his contract expires."

The Authority and Seth laughed, and he and Kane sat down in the booth, too. Seth ordered water from the cocktail waitress.

"That...thing is the only one I've ever had to order to wear underwear," Master sneered, after the waitress left. "You would think something like that would just be common decency, or even common sense, but no, not to Bo."

"Being in the ring with him is truly a disgusting experience," Seth said.

"We try to minimize that," Kane replied, seriously. "We gave him a stupid gimmick, too. _All you have to do is Bo-lieve!"_

Seth felt good, on the same level with the Authority, but he knew it was just an illusion. He left the party early, to ready the suite for sleep. In his room, Seth stripped out of his dress clothes and buried his face in them; they smelled faintly of Dean's cologne. His underwear was stained with precum and smelled like Dean's piss. He put them in his laundry bag, tucked his again-erect cock into black boxer briefs, and pulled on the orange jail shirt.

He turned down the master bed and laid out the robes and a gown for Mistress; Master always slept naked. He put a bottle of water on both nightstands. Then, his phone, which he'd tucked into the waistband of his boxers, vibrated.

A text from Dean! Seth's heart pitter-pattered. _Just woke up, really need to pee, J's passed out in the bathroom. I'm about to wet my bed! What should I do?_

Seth looked at the time. Did he dare? It was _Dean_ , hell yeah he dared! He texted back: _I'll be right down. You can piss on me._ He yanked his dress pants back on and swapped the jail shirt for "Never Shuts Up". He grabbed his key card and dashed downstairs to Dean's room. He knocked softly, and Dean flung it open, clearly desperate and flustered.

"Is Jey really passed out in there?" Seth asked, thumbing at the bathroom door.

"Uh-huh," Dean replied, miserably. "If you listen close, you can hear him snoring. He's been in there _forever_ , and I _really_ gotta pee; I even peed my briefs a little and-"

"Honey, it's okay, I'm here now." Seth kissed him softly before sitting down in the desk chair. "Come here."

Dean, still wearing his damp briefs, climbed into Seth's lap, and Seth instantly heard that distinct hissing noise before feeling Dean's piss soak his crotch again.

"Oh, fuck...I'm peeing my briefs...I'm trying...I'm trying to stop...I'm trying...Oh, fuck, I _can't_ stop!" Dean managed to pull down the front of his soaked briefs, and a huge gush of piss drenched Seth's WWE t-shirt. "Sorry, Seth!"

"No, it's okay, I love it." Seth took control of Dean's pissing cock, and aimed it towards his own mouth and let Dean fill it.

"Wow, you really are a dirty boy, aren't you?"

Seth swallowed, even though he didn't like the spent-alcohol flavor. "Yeah, I'm a dirty little fucker. Filthy in thoughts, words, and deeds."

"I fucking love it!" Dean declared, and kissed Seth right on his pissy mouth before getting up and discarding the wet briefs.

"Hey, can I have those?" Seth asked.

Dean grinned and handed him the wet underwear. "That's a first, never had anyone ask me for my undies."

"My first time asking for someone's."

"Let me get you some dry clothes."

"It's not necessary."

Dean giggled. "What if someone sees you?"

Seth smirked. "I fell in the pool."

Dean handed him a pair of sweats and a wifebeater.

"Okay, I'll put the pants on." Reluctantly, Seth slipped out of the wet things and folded them neatly, with Dean's briefs tucked inside, and pulled on Dean's pants.

Dean snugged him. "You're so cute. Thank you for coming by and letting me pee on you."

"Anytime," Seth said, and gave Dean a quick kiss. "Sweet dreams, bad boy."

"Good night, babe."

Seth ran as fast as he could with a hard on all the way back to the presidential suite, hoping his owners had not beat him there. If they had, he would have some explaining to do. Luckily, the suite was still empty when he arrived. He didn't know how much time he had left, though. He hid the bundle of wet clothes under his bed and traded Dean's sweats for his uniform. He put his dog tags on and went to the sitting room to wait.

He couldn't stop thinking about Dean. It dawned on him that for the first time in years that he had a crush! It seemed stupid, not to mention juvenile, but the feelings were the same. Just to think of Dean made his face red, his heart throb, and the butterflies flutter in his belly. He could smell Dean's piss on his skin, a primal, erotic thing, and he got hard.

He awoke to the voices of his owners.

Master's somewhat sarcastic: "Awww, look."

Mistress's somewhat tender: "Poor Sethie, he must be exhausted."

Seth couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep on the floor of the sitting room. Quickly, he got on his knees. "I'm sorry Sir, Ma'am." He stifled a yawn.

"You're good, Seth," Master said, and patted him, then drew away, and looked down upon him with suspicion. "You smell like piss."

Seth reddened. He had no idea what to say. His tired mind frantically scrambled for an excuse, or even a response, but he couldn't come up with one. He began to get scared.

Mistress sniffed. "Oh yeah he does. Did you have an accident, Sethie?"

Seth was relieved, Mistress had made the excuse for him. Feigning shame, he nodded.

"Oh jeez," Master shook his head. "You're almost thirty years old, what's wrong with you? Well?" He prodded, when Seth didn't reply.

"I tried to hit the men's on my way out of the party, but there was a line. Then, I accidentally left the elevator on the wrong floor, but I thought it was the right floor, so I got lost trying to find the room," Seth lied, in his meekest voice.

"Stupid Seth," Master laughed. "I think you must be bleaching your brain along with that streak in your hair."

Mistress laughed, too, then remembered the internet. "How many people saw you?"

"No one...Well, I passed by some people, and there were the people in the elevator, which is how I ended up getting out on the wrong floor, but that was all before I pissed my pants."

"No one saw you afterwards?" She asked.

"No, I was already in here when it happened."

"Whew, thank goodness. Thought for a moment we had another scandal on our hands," Mistress said, visibly relieved.

Seth blushed, since he'd already caused one this year with his naked pictures.

"And you didn't even have the sense or decency to take a shower." Master shook his head.

"I didn't know when you were coming back," Seth said. "I wanted to make sure you didn't need anything right away."

"Did you at least clean up your puddle?" Mistress asked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You didn't wet the carpet?"

"No, Ma'am, I was in the bathroom when it happened."

Mistress was apparently satisfied, and went into the master bedroom, but Master lingered.

"So let me see," Master began. "You made it all the way to the bathroom and you still couldn't use it properly?"

Seth was _hating_ this, elaborating a lie he might have to remember later. "I couldn't hold it."

"Stupid Seth, don't you have an ounce of self-control?"

"Yes, Sir, I do."

Master unhooked his belt, and pulled it from his dress pants. "Go to your room, Seth." He folded the belt in half, and cracked it.

Seth obeyed. He knew Master was going to whip him for "having an accident", but it was worth it. He would suffer a thousand lashings with Master's belt and tell the biggest lies if it meant he could play with Dean again.

Seth realized his room smelled like Dean's piss, too, from the clothes he'd thrown under the bed. He hoped Master wouldn't notice, but of course he did. "Your room smells like piss, too. Didn't you say you cleaned up? Did you lie to me and my wife, Seth?"

"Yes, Sir, I cleaned up, but I forgot to rinse my clothes. I'm sorry, Sir."

"Strip, and get into position four. Time to punish you for your accident." Master ordered. Master had already stripped, down to "manties", this time a purple and pink zebra-striped thong.

Seth took off his uniform and bent over, holding his ankles. It was going to hurt, he knew, Master never fooled around when it came to giving his pet the belt, but he guessed he deserved it; he was a dirty boy, even if he hadn't had an accident.

Master whipped him with the belt five times, hard. It wasn't the worst Master had ever whipped him, but Seth knew he would still have welts, and would have to be careful changing in the locker room.

"Go rinse out your clothes _immediately,_ and air out this room," Master ordered. "Sometimes I wonder how you got as far as you have without someone keeping you in check."

"Yes, Sir," Seth said, dutifully, ass still aflame.

"I don't ever want to come upon a mess like this from you again, understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Wake us up tomorrow at ten."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good night, pet."

"Good night, Sir."

Finally, Master left, and a wave of relief washed over Seth. He'd pulled it off, he'd done dirty deeds with Dean, and no one was the wiser. He laughed at his own pun, and pulled the pile of wet clothes out from under his bed. He found Dean's briefs, and pressed them to his face, feeling the cool dampness and smelling his scent. Seth placed them under his pillow, and went to rinse the rest of his clothes and hang them on the shower curtain rod. He inspected the welts on his ass, one for every lashing, but none were bleeding. Satisfied with his day, he went to bed and curled up with Dean's briefs. He couldn't wait to see him again. He hoped to see him in his dreams.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Seth slept in. Unfortunately, Mistress did not, so she filled the ice pail with cold water, and more than a few cubes, and threw it on him. Seth yelped and jumped out of bed, and looked frantically for something to cover his freezing cold, wet, naked body with. All of his blankets were wet now, and he dashed madly towards the bathroom for a towel, but Mistress cut him off.

"No, Sethie. No restroom until you've done your morning duties."

"I just want a towel, Ma'am-"

"I just want a towel, Ma'am," Mistress mimicked Seth's pleading voice as he stood shivering uncontrollably.

"P-please, Ma'am," Seth begged, though chattering teeth.

"Come along, Sethie, Hunter's waiting for his shower."

For once, Seth was more than happy to hop in the shower with Hunter, it would give him warmth. He followed Mistress into the master suite, where Master was sitting up in bed, waiting for his pet. Seth was embarrassed of his cold-shrunken cock.

"It's about time," Master sneered. "We do have a plane to catch, you know."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Seth apologized, and followed Hunter into the master bathroom. He turned on the shower, and adjusted the temperature while his Master took a piss. Seth realized he needed to do that, too, and the shower was adding urgency to that need. Mistress had said _no restroom until you've done your morning duties,_ but that didn't mean he couldn't ask Master. When Master stepped into the shower, Seth asked him if he could take a piss before joining him.

"Normally, I'd say yes, but since you've had so many problems holding it lately, no. You need to make your bladder strong again, my pet."

Seth had to agree with that. Ever since his close call during his promo, he was pissing more often than usual, and his bladder just didn't seem to want to hold on long. "Yes, Sir." He bit his lips against the pain of fullness, and joined his Master in the shower.

Master had been training again, and Seth knew he would return to the ring soon. He washed Master's muscular, tanned back, and tried to distract himself from discomfort, but under the warm spray, and with the sounds of running water, it was impossible. He dropped to his knees to wash Hunter's legs (once twin sequoias, now sort of chicken-scrawny) and let go, hoping Hunter wouldn't notice the water running down the drain had a golden tint.

But, of course he did. He laughed, and turned around to catch Seth in the act. "Just couldn't hold it, could you?"

Seth blushed and tried to hide behind his two-tone hair. "No, Sir, it was just too much."

"I guess it's now up to me to retrain your bladder. So, from now on, I will dictate what you drink, how much, and when, and you will use the restroom only when I say. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir." He felt Hunter's hand stroking his hair, and Seth was transported back to five years ago, when he was still Tyler Black, and Hunter was his mentor, and crush.

"That's my boy," Master praised. "Come up off your knees and get washed up, since you slept in, we're pressed for time."

"I'm sorry, Sir." Seth got under the spray, and began washing up, thinking of his new crush, Dean. Although he hadn't seen him in his dreams last night, he was already the star of his daydreams.

Seth couldn't stop thinking about him. He took the clothes he'd rinsed last night; Dean's sweats, and yesterday's dress pants, nice shirt, socks, and boxer briefs, down from the shower stall; they were still wet, but he didn't have a choice but to put them in a plastic bag, along with Dean's briefs, which he _hadn't_ rinsed.

At the airport, Seth's big suitcase was overweight due to the wet clothing inside. He hoped they wouldn't open up his bag and go poking around, but they didn't, and after paying an additional fee, Seth was able to join his owners in line for security screening. The line was long, but it was moving. Master had told him he could use the restroom as soon as they got through TSA, and after having to drink two bottles of water and a coffee, Seth was really wanting to do that. As the line crept forward, Seth fiddled with his hair, finger-traced the tattoo on his wrist, unzipped his carry on, took out his boarding pass and driver's license, put it back, pulled out his phone, shifted his weight from foot to foot , shifted his bag from one shoulder to the other.

"Seth, stop it," Hunter scolded, in the same snappish whisper he used to call his moves in the ring.

"Yeah, what do you got, ants in your pants?" Mistress asked.

"No, Ma'am, I-"

"Discipline, Seth," Master warned, without turning around.

Seth stomped a foot. He couldn't keep the brat in him from taking over, he was beginning to think it could be his true nature, being with Dean had brought it out. He wished more than anything he was traveling with Dean now, like they had back in their Shield days. It would be even more fun, to say the least, with their newly-discovered dynamics. Finally, it was his turn to step up and begin the final quest before he could find a restroom. He didn't hide the fact that he needed to pee from the TSA workers, hoping it would make them move him through faster, even though Master glared at him every time he caught his pet bouncing up and down.

Seth didn't even pause to put his shoes back on. He just grabbed them, and his bag, and sprinted past his owners and down the concourse in his socks. He finally found a men's room, and carelessly dropped his things on the floor on his way to the trough. Just in the nick of time, he managed to free his cock from his Adidas sweatpants. A helpless moan of pleasure escaped his lips, and the restroom's other occupant, chuckled in his stall, then tried to cover it up with a cough.

"Yeah, it does really feel that good to let all this piss go," Seth retorted to the unseen stranger, and moaned again when he got a pee shiver and his bladder gave an involuntary push. "You wouldn't be fucking laughing if you had to piss this bad."

The worst of the pressure was off, he'd pissed a lot, but Seth knew from experience it would only be a matter of minutes before he needed to go again, so he put himself away, and was putting his shoes back on when the guy came from the stall to wash his hands beside Seth. He was younger, one of those Justin Bieber look-a-likes, and Seth had to fight the urge to laugh at him, and cleared his throat.

"Hey man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. Pretty immature, I guess," the kid said.

Seth shrugged. "It's okay. Piss does have a humorous side to it. Fly safe."

The kid left, and Seth returned to the trough to finish. Master came in and watched his pet piss until he finished. Just before Seth put himself away, Master spoke: "Did you have an accident, my pet?"

"No, Sir," Seth replied, quite truthfully.

"Let me see your underwear," Master demanded.

"I'm... I'm not wearing any." Seth admitted, and blushed.

"Why not? Did you have to throw them out because you wet them?"

"No, Sir. Sometimes...sometimes I just don't like wearing underwear."

"I expect you to wear proper underwear at _all_ times, Seth. Do you have any in your bag?"

"No, Sir."

Hunter sighed with impatience, and opened his own bag. He fished out the underwear Seth had packed into it that morning and handed it to him. It was a satiny-textured soft pink very brief bikini that sparkled under the florescent lights in the restroom. "Put this on."

Seth's face flamed hot, and he took the underwear from Hunter and locked himself into a stall. Sissy manties; he thought he'd never have to wear a pair ever again once he was done with Cyberfights, yet here he was, sliding another pair up his hairy legs, and they weren't even his. They were tight, his cock felt trapped no matter how he tried to adjust himself in the prison of pink glitter. He had to admit the texture of the material was nice, it reminded him of his satin sheets back at home, his real home, not the McMahonsion he was about to fly back to.

He stepped out of the stall. "Let me see," Master demanded, without looking up from his phone until Seth lowered his pants to prove he'd put on the underwear. "Good boy. You'd better not get one drop of piss on my briefs, Seth."

"I won't, Sir." Seth picked up his carry on, and Hunter's, and they left the men's room. Mistress was waiting off to the side.

"Next time bring your own underwear," Master told him, so Mistress could hear.

She laughed, and looked at Seth.

"I had to give stupid Seth a pair of my briefs," Master told her.

"Awww, Sethie... Did you have an accident?" Mistress asked.

"He _claims_ he didn't, but he forgot to wear underwear today, so I really couldn't check. He didn't pack any in his carry on, either."

"Didn't, or couldn't? He probably couldn't wear any because he didn't have any clean ones left; he probably peed in all of them."

His owners laughed while Seth stood burdened with all their carry on bags, head down, feeling like a donkey in every sense of the word. In his carry on, he felt his phone vibrate, but he couldn't see who the text was from, not with his hands full of his owners' things. He followed them into a shop where they bought various little things for the flight. Laden down with the bags, Seth couldn't buy anything for himself, but arriving at their gate, Hunter handed his pet a Powerade.

Seth didn't want to drink it; he had no idea when Hunter would let him piss next, and Powerade always made him need to go. He sat down and pulled out his phone instead. The text was from Dean, but before Seth had a chance to read it, his owners started in on him.

"Sethie, you're not drinking your Powerade," Mistress chastised.

"Gotta keep your electrolytes in balance," Master added.

Seth uncapped it, and brought it to his lips before reversing the process without drinking. He knew he was risking punishment, but he was _not_ about to risk pissing himself on the plane. "When can I use the restroom again?" He asked Master.

"When I say you can. Now drink your Powerade."

"No." Seth said, even though he was scared. "I'm not drinking it until you tell me when I can piss next."

"That is not for you to decide. Drink, Seth."

"I said _no!"_ Seth snapped. He sat back in his chair and tried to look casually defiant, even though he was terrified. He remembered Dean's text, and finally read it. _Good morning, sexy! I woke up so horny for you this morning. I miss you._ Seth blushed, and smiled. He didn't notice Master looking at his own phone, and then down the councourse.

"Come, Seth." Master's voice was like ice, and Seth knew he was in for it. He rose, and grabbed his bag.

"Don't worry about that, Steph will watch it," Master snapped.

Seth dropped his bag and followed his Master down the concourse and into the family restroom. Hunter locked the door, Seth leaned against a sink and defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.

"Pull down your pants," Master ordered.

"Make me."

Hunter seized a handful of his pet's half-blonde half-brunette hair and pulled him right up to his face. "Pull down your fuckin' pants and bend over the sink _now,_ Seth, or I'm going to smash your pretty boy face right into the tiles."

Seth pulled down his sweats and Hunter turned him around roughly. Seth could feel his Master caressing the curve of his toned ass in the silly manties...oh, he knew what was coming now, and his cock quickly rose to attention, poking out of the stupid pink bikini and drooling precum. Hunter was going to spank him barehanded on his bare ass; he always did whenever Seth's bratty side came out, and Seth had a feeling his Master enjoyed it as much as he did.

Hunter's finger's tickled his pet's ass crack, and Seth sighed with pleasure. Then he slid the manties down around Seth's tanned thighs, and suddenly smacked his ass hard. Seth gasped, the tingle from his ass radiated throughout his whole body, and automatically, he began humping the edge of the sink in time to his punishment, helplessly crying out and writhing at the mixture of pleasure and pain. He began to stroke himself, and shot his load on the floor in a convulsion. Hunter gave him one final whack he didn't feel in the afterglow. He gripped the edge of the sink, panting hard, his hair hanging stringy in his sweaty face.

"I hope that whatever got into you today is out of you now," Hunter said. "I think Steph and I may have been too lenient with you lately, so we'll be correcting that. Get cleaned up, and meet us at the gate."

"Yes, Sir."

"I strongly advise you to use the restroom, too, because you won't be using it on the plane, and you will be drinking your Powerade."

Seth nodded. Now that the afterglow was fading, his ass was sore. He'd lost count of the number of spankings he'd received. "Yes, Sir."

"Hurry up, I want half of it down before you get on the plane, Seth."

"Yes, Sir."

His Master left, and Seth used some wet paper towels to wipe his cum off the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

To Seth's surprise, Hunter sat beside him on the plane, in the last row in first class, and Stephanie sat with Kane, a few rows ahead. To Seth's dread, Hunter made him finish the Powerade, and a bottle of water because "We don't want our champ to get dehydrated". He began wanting to piss even before Hunter made him drink the water, he tried to ignore his growing discomfort by playing games on his phone, and two hours into the flight, he broke down and asked permission to use the restroom. He had to; his bladder was painfully swollen, aching for relief. He absolutely could not hold it any longer.

"May I use the restroom, Sir?" He asked, tensing ever so slightly at the thought of one.

"Yes you may, Seth...when we get to the airport."

Seth's bladder cramped, and he bit his lips and held his muscles taut. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but on the plane, it was impossible. "I can't wait that long, Sir." He couldn't keep the whiny panic out of his voice, he truly was panicking, he was about to piss himself.

"You don't have a choice, Seth," Hunter told him. "I told you before you wouldn't be using the restroom on the plane. Now stop squirming, you look like an ass."

"I can't help it," Seth whined. He tried to stay still, but it was impossible; every time he stopped fidgeting, he thought the dam would break. "Please, Sir, please reconsider!" He begged. His skin was tingling, and he grabbed his cock, and leaned forward, his hot forehead on the back of the seat in front of him.

"No, my pet. Now have some discipline and self control."

Seth caught sight of the empty bottles. "Can I use a bottle? Please, Sir, I'll be really discrete."

"Fuck no, stupid Seth! Why would you even _ask_ me that?"

"Because I really, really, really need to piss!" Seth snapped. His bladder was pushing hard for release, and Seth bit his lips to stifle a whine. His eyes welled with tears from the effort it took not to piss himself. "Please, Sir, I'll never ask again. Please let me use the restroom, just this once!" A big gush of piss escaped, and he had to shove his hand down his pants to hold himself. He'd slipped out of the too-small bikini, so at least Master's manties were dry. Seth's sweats on the other hand...well, at least they were black. "Please, Sir!"

"I fuckin' told you no three times. Now shut the fuck up and hold that piss until we get to the airport!" Hunter ordered.

Seth looked at his Master helplessly, and shook his head. "I... _Oh, fuck!"_ Despite his firm grip, another gush escaped, and he couldn't stop it. There he was, pissing himself in front of Master, the manties were soaked, his sweats were soaked, and he was sitting in a puddle, piss dripping off his seat to make a puddle on the carpeting.

He was too embarrassed to look at Hunter as unzipped his hoodie and stood to tie it around his hips. He looked at what he'd done to the seat instead, the puddle on the black fake leather.

And Hunter looked, too. "Fuck, stupid Seth! Don't you have an ounce of self control? I can't believe you did that."

Seth sat back down in the puddle. "Neither can I." He lowered the tray over his lap and buried his face in his hands. He hoped his black clothes would hide what he'd done well enough so that no one would notice. And, there was still the matter of the wet manties. Hunter had told him not to get one drop of piss in them, and they were completely drenched with it. Why couldn't Hunter have let him use the restroom, just once?

"Shit, Seth, it's like you're in first grade. You pissed my briefs, too. Didn't I tell you to keep them dry?"

"Yes, Sir." Seth felt completely defeated. "I couldn't help it."

"You're weak."

Obediently, Seth nodded in agreement. He hoped to lessen his punishment later by being meek now. Sometimes, it worked.

Hunter handed him another bottle of water. "I want this one gone before you get off the plane, and we'll be landing soon."

"Yes, Sir." Seth uncapped it, and drank half of it right away.

"Good boy," Hunter praised, and patted his leg, even though it was wet.

"Can I still use the restroom at the airport?"

"You may, seeing as you have to change clothes, anyhow. But after that, not again until we get home."

A ping, and the fasten seatbelts sign lit up. Seth obeyed that, too. "Am I in trouble for pissing your briefs, Sir?"

"Of course. Didn't I order you to keep them dry?" Hunter asked, and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Sir."

"And they're not dry, are they now?"

"No, Sir."

"Of course they're not, you're absolutely soaked in your own piss. Stupid question, stupid Seth. I'm not going to punish you at the airport, that will wait until we get home."

Seth's stomach began to swirl sickly. "Wh-what are you going to do, Sir?"

"You'll see. It's a surprise. Finish your water."

In a stall in the airport men's room, Seth changed into the shorts he had in his carry on, and considered the condition of his t-shirt. It was wet around the bottom, back and front, but the shirt he'd tossed in his carry on was one of his own, and he certainly couldn't wear his hoodie over it. Mistress would disapprove of the Seth Rollins t-shirt, and Seth himself didn't want to draw any attention; he already looked like enough of an ass, wearing nothing but a tucked-in t-shirt and nylon shorts this time of year. At least there were more things in his checked bags, but he didn't know if Master would allow him to change.

He joined his owners and Kane in baggage claim. Neither of them looked pleased with his appearance, and were quick to let him know.

"Sethie, you look ridiculous!"

"Fuck, stupid Seth. Couldn't you have at least worn a shirt you didn't piss on?"

Kane just laughed and shook his head, as if the golden boy of the Authority could not possibly get any stupider.

"All I had in my bag was a work shirt, Sir. May I change after I find the bags?" Seth asked.

"Do you even have anything clean to change into?" Master asked, and Kane laughed again.

"Yes, Sir, I do. And, my coat. I'm cold."

"Of course you are. And, you look stupid, too. Go hide in the men's; I'll bring your bag in. I don't want to chance anyone taking a picture of you looking like...that." Master grimaced.

Seth took shelter in the nearest restroom, as ordered. He locked himself in a stall, and finally answered Dean's text. _I miss you, too 3_

He really did miss Dean, his heart ached. Just after he sent the text, his phone died. He sighed, and shoved it back into his carry on. He pissed again, because Hunter would never know that he had, and with all the water he'd been forced to drink, it wasn't a bad idea. He sat down on the edge of the toilet and waited for Hunter. He was tired as fuck, but not physically; emotionally drained might be a more adequate way to describe it. He just wanted to be with Dean, at home in his condo.

"Seth, come out here and get your shit." Master ordered.

Seth came out of his sanctuary. Hunter was standing beside his luggage. "Thank you, Sir." He stacked the smaller bag atop the big rolling suitcase, and pulled it into a handicap stall. Master followed.

"Hurry up. The valet has already gone to bring the car."

Under Hunter's watchful eye, Seth unzipped his bag and found a pair of tight gray jeans he'd worn only for a backstage interview on _Smackdown_. He shed the shorts and began pulling the jeans on.

"Seth, aren't you forgetting something?" Master asked.

"What's that, Sir?" Seth stopped, only his right leg in the pants.

"I just told you earlier that I expect you to wear proper underwear at all times, and you just went from shorts to jeans."

"I'm sorry, Sir." He returned to his bag and produced a pair of his uniform black boxer briefs.

"Something lighter that will show me whether or not you're dry."

Seth returned to his bag, and got the blue boxer briefs he sometimes wore under his tights. He'd lately been going through a phase of not wearing underwear in the ring, even on TV, and hadn't worn them since he'd last washed them. He held them out for Hunter's approval.

"Yes, Seth, those will be fine."

Seth smirked proudly to himself as he pulled on the boxer briefs. Master was watching, and Seth took his time adjusting his cock. He knew Master was jealous of it; that knowledge made him happy, and he took every opportunity he could to show it off. Once he was dressed to Master's approval, he asked him if he could take a piss before they left, just in case. Of course, Master said no; he had already told "stupid Seth" he would have to wait until he got home.

"Home", the McMahonsion, was nearly two hours away, but Seth was pretty confident he wouldn't need to piss too badly by the time he got there...unless Master made him drink more. When Master pulled into the first gas station he saw, he knew he was in trouble.

Master left him in the car, in the care of Mistress. She turned around to talk to him. "Oh, Sethie, I can't believe you peed your pants on the plane. Hunter's right, you have absolutely no discipline or self control, and not an ounce of dignity."

"I think I handled the situation with as much dignity as possible," Seth retorted. "I don't think anyone knew a thing besides Master."

Mistress shook her head. "You're our champion, the face of our company, and you can't even control your bladder."

"Everyone gets caught short sometimes, Ma'am."

"You've been getting caught short a lot lately, Sethie."

"Well, what do you expect? You and Master never let me take a piss when I need to," Seth whined.

"Now, Sethie, you know that's not true. We give you permission to use the restroom all the time."

Before Seth had a chance to disagree with that, Master returned to the car with a black plastic shopping bag. The first thing he did was hand his pet a bottle of orange juice. "Gotta make sure you have your vitamin C, since we've been traveling," Master told him, and Mistress laughed.

Seth didn't laugh. He was wondering how many more drinks were in that black plastic bag.

"I think he might already need to pee again," Mistress told Master. "He's being pretty bratty."

"Nah, that's just his attitude lately. Someone's gotten a little too big for his boots. But, we'll take care of that." He looked at Seth in the rear mirror. "Drink your juice. You don't already need a piss, do you?"

"No, Sir. But, if you make me keep drinking, I will." The moment the words were out, Seth regretted them. He had just given Master all the reason in the world to make him drink more.

Master laughed at Seth's dismayed face in the mirror. Seth reluctantly uncapped the orange juice and began drinking. "Good boy," Master praised.

Master did not stop with the orange juice. When Seth finished it, he was given a bottle of iced tea, and then a bottle of water, which he could only drink half of, as all of those fluids were still sitting in his belly. Once they made their way down to his bladder, he hid his need until he no longer could, if Master knew his pet needed a piss, he'd take longer getting home. They were only a few miles from home when Seth could no longer conceal his desperation. Master caught him fidgeting and grabbing himself in the rear view mirror, and Seth admitted he needed to use the restroom, and Master just told him, once again, to wait until he was home.

He did. By the time Master pulled into the garage, Seth was in pain, and feeling sick to his stomach, but he'd waited. Now all he had to do was get out of the car and into the powder room just inside the door. He shoved his hand into his boxer briefs to get a better grip on his cock, and carefully holding his muscles taut, made his way to the door.

"Seth, come and get the bags," Master ordered.

"I need to use the restroom first, Sir." Seth shifted his weight from foot to foot as he tried to enter his code in the keypad to get into the house. He screwed it up. An impatient whine escaped his lips, and he bounced up and down while he waited to try again.

"You need to come get these bags," Master repeated.

Seth tried his code again, and was successful in getting the door open. He shot Hunter a smug look. "I will, after I take a piss."

In the powder room, there was a mirror above the toilet, so Seth was treated to a view of his own exhausted face and frizzy hair as he took the greatest piss of his life. The view made him depressed, he looked like shit when he was tired and stressed. He looked down at his cock instead, still gushing piss. He remembered Dean pissing on him. Dean was so hot, so funny, so crazy, seemingly custom-made for Seth. He wondered why it had taken him until now to fall in love with him, when they'd spent so much more time together, and had had more opportunities to play, when they were the Shield. He wanted to be with Dean so badly right now he wanted to cry. Instead, he shook off and put his glorious cock away. He flushed the toilet and looked beyond his face in the mirror to the back door. On the other side of it, hell awaited him.

He washed his hands and his face, and tamed the frizz as well as he could. He cleaned his glasses on his shirt. He was stalling, that's what he was doing. God damn it, he didn't need any punishment, not today, not now when Hunter had already been forcing drinks on him all day, and his bladder was still aching because of it. He'd pissed himself on the plane. He didn't have his lover at his side. He was already defeated.

But, he wasn't a fucking chicken shit. He wasn't a little bitch. He was still Seth Freakin' Rollins, and while his owners may have said he didn't have a shred of dignity, he sure as fuck did. He took a deep breath, and opened the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Master immediately seized him by his coat. "When I order you to do something, you fuckin' do it!" He threw Seth down the hall towards the garage like a bouncer throwing some asshole out of a bar.

Seth knew how to fall, so he was more shocked than hurt. Master had not laid hands on him in such a way in a long time.

"What the fuck are you staring at, stupid Seth?" Master mimicked his pet's surprised face. "Go and get those bags _now._ This is the third fuckin' time I've had to tell you!"

Seth picked himself up and went to the garage to get all the bags. Master watched him the entire time, and barked threats at him like a drill sergeant to make him move faster. Master ordered him to start the wash, keeping his "soiled" clothing away from the rest, then take a "much-needed" shower and come immediately to the master bedroom, "don't even bother getting dressed".

Seth did as he was told, and reported naked to the master bedroom suite, his hair still dripping down his shoulders and back. He was cold, but not cold enough for his cock to shrink. He knelt before his owners, who were relaxing in the sitting room.

"Sethie," Mistress began. "From now on, you will have new rules to follow. You'll receive them in writing after your punishment is through. Your punishment is entirely in the hands of my husband, but only because I have to go to the office. If you haven't learned your lesson by the time I get back, I'm going to punish you again. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good." Mistress left.

"Come, Seth," Master said, and Seth followed him.

He led him to the Tool Shed and over to the ring. "Undress me."

Seth did as he was told, and began undoing the buttons on Master's shirt. He peeled it away, and began working on his belt. Once the pants were dropped, Master stepped out of them, but balanced on one foot, and then the other, so Seth could remove his socks. "Underwear, too, Sir?" He looked down at Master's red satin thong. To his amazement, for the first time in years, Master was fully hard for him, and fully hard, Master was a sight to behold. Not as long as Dean, but thicker, and it was pretty, like his own.

"Not just yet. Get in the ring."

Seth couldn't help showing off, and jumped up on to the apron. Before he could step through the ropes, Hunter swept his legs out from under him, and he landed on his ass on the mat outside.

"Save that shit for your fans." Hunter snapped.

Seth didn't reply, but slid under the bottom rope, the lowliest entrance.

"This should feel nostalgic for you," Master began. "You and me in a submission match. Tap or say 'I quit', ropes break the hold, winner takes ass." He began warming up, and so did Seth.

It was nostalgic, it was Cyberfights all over again, and he was Tyler Black. Being in the ring, in any ring, always brought him into character, and gave him an feeling of inner peace. And, it was nostalgic in another way, too. Five years ago, he used to beat his cock raw fantasizing about the very match he was about to undertake.

"Ding ding, Seth," Master said, in a cold voice, pulling Seth from his reverie. He turned around, just in time to catch a boot to his stomach. He knew Master had not kicked him as hard as he could of, but it was just enough to knock the wind out of him. He fell backwards, into the ropes rather than into what was sure to be a pedigree. He didn't fall all the way down though, he clung to the ropes, struggling to breathe before he passed out. Finally, he could.

"I...thought...this was...a...submission match," Seth panted, as he tried to regather his wits about him.

"Oh, but it is." Master grabbed him, forced him down to the mat, and put him in a crossface. Seth cried out, and grabbed for the very near ropes. Master laughed, and let him go, but not before delivering a smart elbow shot to his pet's head.

That hurt, and Seth was suddenly furious. He quickly got on his feet, and threw himself into the ropes before Master could even rise to his feet. He used the added velocity to propel him directly into Master's face, the same knee that had broken Cena's pretty nose raised and ready to reset Master's ugly one, as well.

But Master knew the one he'd created too well. He knew Seth was going to use that flying knee, and just moved out of the way and watched him fly into the ropes instead. He hit them hard, and rather than flying through, or over, he was flung back onto the canvas, and somehow managed to avoid a concussion. Master laughed at him, and pulled him into the middle of the ring, and tried to put him in the walls of Jericho, but Seth escaped. Seth was beginning to realize the hopelessness of the situation, Master _was_ better than him. Although the Architect had a lot of weapons in his arsenal, the King of Kings had more. And, he was bigger, and although Seth hated to admit it, stronger, and now that it was hard, he had a nicer cock, too.

Master caught him looking at it. "I took a bunch of Viagra, just so I can pound your ass all afternoon, right after you tap out."

Seth was also afraid to unleash his arsenal of moves on Master full-force; even if he won the match, he would still be punished in some way, and if he hurt his Master, it would certainly come back to him, several times worse. He got to his feet and shoved him away instead. He wished Dean were here. Dean would somehow put an end to this. Master just kept laughing at him, and Seth wanted to cry.

Master grabbed a handful of his pet's two-tone hair, and pummeled him with his left fist. No, he was not going full-force, but Seth was still hurting where Master's blows landed. "Come on, aren't you even going to fight back?" Master taunted, and again kicked him in the stomach. This time, Seth was anticipating it, and tensed his abs and curled away as far as he could to lessen the blow.

It worked, he didn't get the wind knocked out of him. Again, he shoved Master away, and responded with his own kick that connected with the side of Master's face, and he went down. Seth scrambled over and quickly tried to put him in a sharpshooter. Master laughed at him again, and kicked him away. Seth got tangled in his own feet, and went down himself, and before he knew what was happening, Master had him in a figure four leg lock, and the pain was so great he screamed, and automatically tried to pull away, towards the ropes behind him, but without Master's give, all he did was crank up the level of his pain to the point tears came to his eyes. He had to tap, his knees were screaming, he was screaming, and if he didn't tap, he felt he might not ever walk again.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, and a growing sense of dread in his stomach, Seth lowered his left palm to the canvas, and tapped. Immediately, mercifully, Master released the hold, but the mercy was short-lived. Before he even had a chance to check how badly he was hurt, Master shoved him into a turnbuckle and handcuffed him between the top and middle ropes, forcing him to stand bent over, his knees aching so terribly he began begging Master to let him sit, for just a little while.

"You won't be sitting for quite awhile, stupid Seth." Master said, and spat on his hand. Seth couldn't see, but he could hear Master working it on his cock, and he began to quiver. _No lube. It was going to hurt, it was-_

Very suddenly, Master seized his pet's tanned hips and thrust his enormous beasthood in, and immediately, Seth forgot all about the pain in his knees, because it was nothing compared to what he was feeling in his asshole. It was worse than when he'd been broken. He screamed and pleaded with Master to stop, he tried to get away, but Master only held him tighter, and stabbed him deeper. To Seth, it felt like an enormous cheese grater was scraping his insides, and he tried to scream louder than Master groaned, he wanted him to stop, he would do anything to make it stop.

Seth realized he was hyperventilating. He had reached a state where the pain was numbed, he was going to faint soon. Master was moving inside him smoothly now, and Seth looked down and saw why. There was blood on his legs, and drops of blood on the mat. _My blood._ He passed out, the pain over at last.

When Seth came to, he was lying on his stomach in the ring. The pain in his left knee had disappeared, so had most in the right, but his asshole was still throbbing, burning, and there was more blood on the mat than he'd remembered. Master was gone. Seth used the ropes to pull himself up, and clung to them until his pain-filled head cleared a little. There were scrapes on his wrists from the handcuffs, and he felt something warm and wet drip down his legs, and cringed when he saw it was a combination of his blood and Master's jiz. He felt filthy, violated, raped. He wanted to take a shower, and limped away, down to a lower-level restroom, which he used when he didn't use the master bath. It was part of a mother-in-law suite, complete with kitchenette, and Seth had often wished that he could stay in it rather than sharing the master suite with his owners.

He stood under the spray as hot as he could take it, and watched the pinkish water run down the drain. His vision turned crystalline, and he turned his face into the spray. He couldn't do it anymore. If this was the price he had to pay to be the face of the WWE, it was far too steep. The emotional pain was far worse than the physical, though that was still at the forefront, mostly in his ass, but he seemed to have strained or sprained his right knee, there was a weird twinging pain there, that seemed to throb with his broken heartbeat.

He finally turned off the taps, and toweled off his bruised body. He was going to leave. He no longer cared if his owners killed his career, he could sign with any other promotion, anywhere in the world.

 _Nothing, nothing is worth this,_ Seth thought, as he pulled on clean clothes from one of his bags he'd left in the laundry room, and realized he had a problem. He knew from past experience he would continue to bleed for a few days. He needed protection, lest some crazy fan catch him with blood on his pants and take a picture of it for all the world to see, including the owners he was fleeing from. He went back to the restroom where he'd tried to wash the shame, pain, hopelessness, and depression away, and took a maxi pad from the courtesy basket beneath the sink, and lowered his pants and boxer briefs. He placed it, and pulled his pants up, it felt like a damn diaper, and he felt both protected and asinine, and managed a bitter chuckle, little more than a snort, but it spun his mood. He took the remaining four pads. He checked the garage, two cars gone, he was home alone, it was the perfect time to make a run for it, to hell with the consequences. He used the house phone to call a cab, he still hadn't charged his. He packed his bags, and went outside to wait, even though the air was very chilly, and it was already dark outside. He hoped the cab would come before either of his owners got home, though if it didn't, he was leaving anyway, no matter what. They would have to literally kill him to stop him.

But, they didn't come home before the cab pulled up, picked him up, and took him down the long driveway; he was safe. No house shows this week, he didn't even have to see them until Saturday, when they were to fly to Europe for ten days, if he still had a job, anyway. But really, he didn't care anymore. Nothing else mattered, even the discomfort of sitting in the cab was nothing now. He was safe. He was free.

Seth did not know New York well, and had the cab driver drop him off at an upscale hotel he'd stayed in before, though never with Master and Mistress. He just wanted to lock himself away and order room service until whatever was to happen next came to fruition.

Once in his room, Seth finally began to relax, though he still trembled. He plugged in his phone, but left it turned off. He considered a drink from the bar, but decided against it. Thanks to Master, he'd already had more than enough to drink today, and if he added booze on top of it, he'd never stop pissing. So instead, he took off his pants and shirt, and laid prone on the bed. It caressed his aching body, and he was quickly lulled into some much-needed sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Seth didn't stir for nearly twelve hours. He awoke feeling somewhat better, more capable, less broken. His ass was still throbbing, and his knee made him twinge in pain on his way to the restroom. He should really wrap it, but he had nothing. He also needed Neosporin, and stool softeners, not to mention more pads. All of the embarrassing stuff he didn't want to be seen buying. He was afraid to venture out of his room at all. Not only because of fan interaction, but because his owners would find out where he was.

It dawned on Seth that to his owners, friends, coworkers, possibly his family, and even to Dean, he was missing. A lot of people were probably very concerned about him, maybe even worried. He decided to turn his phone on, and immediately, it began blowing up with notifications. He waited until the phone was quiet before picking it up. The message at the top was from Sami Zayn, sent fifteen minutes ago. _Hey everyones looking for you, pls txt when get this_

Seth thought for a moment, then replied: _Sorry, I didn't want anyone to worry, but I decided at the last minute to take advantage of the days off and turned off my phone. In hindsight, not the smartest idea, but at least I finally got some sleep._

Dean had texted, too, thirteen times, and Seth was touched at how well Dean had understood shutting off the phone. His last message read: _3 Seth Freakin Rollins 3 I freakin miss you. So, hit me up when you turn your freakin phone back on! Yours, the Lunatic Fringe (Dean)._

Seth smiled. Most of Dean's other messages were flirty, even sexual, though two warned him that "the Authority" was on the "hunt" for him, pardon the pun. There were messages from other friends, and plenty from his owners and Kane, too, but he replied to Dean's first. _MY Lunatic Fringe, I'm in New York. Decided to arrive a few days early. I miss you, too. Love, Seth Freakin Rollins._

He sent the same reply he'd sent Sami to his other friends who'd texted. He didn't anticipate getting any replies, it was barely seven AM, and everyone was off. But, Sami replied, and so did Tony. Seth didn't read the messages from his owners or Kane at all. He ordered breakfast from room service, and before it came, his phone began to ring. It was Mistress. Seth did not answer, even though she continued to call. She even left voice mails, but he didn't listen to them. He got dressed in the same sweatsuit he'd worn on the plane, and washed at the McMahonsion, and Dean's briefs, which held the necessary pad in place better, and brought him some kind of strange comfort, it made him feel closer to the one he wanted to be with so badly, at this very moment.

He looked at his phone. He wanted to hear the Shield entrance theme, Dean's (and Roman's) special ringtone. But, it was Dean's voice he needed to hear. He needed to be in his arms, Dean would make the pain go away, the confusion end.

But, how could he explain to Dean what had happened to him without giving away his biggest secret? He _had_ to talk to someone about it, he wanted that someone to be Dean, but Dean couldn't keep a secret for anything. He could say it was his "Wall Street guy", but he wanted someone to have the knowledge that Hunter Hearst Helmsley was a violent rapist, even if they never told another soul, which would be for the better, but Seth had to get the secret out. He'd been raped.

He could call Sami, Tony, or Xavier, but he knew none of them were in town yet. Sami had flown home to his family, Tony was doing some public appearances, and Xavier was, too, promoting a new game. He didn't want to bother anyone, and he really didn't want to have the conversation over the phone either. Instead, he used his phone to locate a nearby pharmacy, just across the street, and pulled a black knit hat over his identifying two-tone hair, and put on his prescription sunglasses. No, he did not look like Seth Freakin' Rollins, he was just any random gamer geek, and with his thick down parka, no one could tell he was a fitness freak. It was time to go to Walgreens.

At Walgreens, Seth found everything he needed, and played a deaf mute, topping off his performance by signing "thank you" to the cashier who scanned and bagged his purchases. He returned to his room to tend his physical wounds.

His asshole didn't concern him much. Yes, it was sore as hell, and he was still having his "period", he'd been through that before. It would heal quickly. He washed and dried it carefully before applying Neosporin. He hated the feel of his cheeks sliding so freely, and the gooey stickiness between them, and shuddered. He changed the pad, and sat down on the closed toilet lid to finally inspect his injured right knee. It was a little bigger than the left, a little swelling, nothing major. A sprain, nothing more than that, Seth told himself, as he wrapped it snugly. Once it was wrapped, his knee already felt better.

He went to attend to his phone, which had been whistling and ringing on the nightstand. A reply text from Sasha, who'd received his bulk reply. Several junk emails. A missed call from Mistress. Before he could catch everything, another text came through, and it was from the one Seth had been longing to hear from.

 _Ohmygosh! I'm in New York, too!_

Before Seth could begin a reply, the phone was ringing, it was the Shield theme. "Dean!"

"Fuck, Seth, it's so good just to hear your voice." Dean sounded a little choked up, and Seth was horrified that maybe Dean hadn't been as aloof about his disappearance as his texts had made it seem. He never wanted to give Dean a reason to worry.

"I didn't want you to worry about me. I'm sorry." Seth's eyes smarted with tears.

"Oh, sweetheart, I wasn't worried. I...I just really, really missed you. I know that sounds stupid, because we just saw each other yesterday morning."

"No it doesn't sound stupid, not to me, because I've missed you like hell." The tears fell as all sorts of emotions teemed through him. He sniffled, and knew he had only a matter of moments before he lost control, so he spoke to Dean very quickly. "Can you come to my hotel room? I really need you. I can't talk about it over the phone, but... Something happened to me, Dean... Something bad." His voice broke, and though he tried so hard to hold the sobs in that his chest ached, one escaped.

"What hotel?" Dean asked.

Seth managed to sob out the name of the hotel, and his room number.

"I'm just down the street, I'll be there in five minutes."

Seth waited by the door for him, and managed to get his emotions back under control. Within minutes, Dean was there. Seth flung open the door, and forgot all of his pains as the butterflies filled his stomach. Although it had only been about thirty-six hours since he'd last seen Dean, they had been the worst thirty-six hours he'd ever experienced in his life. Finally, in Dean's arms, Seth felt safe again, and burst into another round of sobs, though this time, the emotion at the forefront was relief.

Dean kept a protective arm around him as they went into the sitting area and sat down on the love seat. He stroked Seth's hair, back, and shoulders, let him cry into his zip-up hoodie, and fed him tissues from a box until Seth was too tired and hoarse to cry anymore.

Dean gave him a snug. "I'll be right back." He went to the kitchenette, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and held it to his face. He did not want Seth to see how angry he was. While he wasn't yet sure what had happened to him, he had seen the bruises on his lover's face, the scrapes on his wrists that he knew all too well the origin of, and had felt the bump on the top of his head. He'd noticed him limping a little, too. Once Seth told him who'd caused him so much pain, he'd- _Easy does it, easy does it,_ Dean thought, as he took some deep breaths, and tried to imagine the cool from the water bottle putting out the embers of wrath smoldering within him.

He brought the bottle of water to Seth, who was still laying back on the sofa. He sat up when Dean came, and accepted the water. "Thank you."

"I noticed you have a Keurig in here. Did you want a cup of coffee?"

Seth shook his head. "I don't even really want the water, but I know I'm dehydrated."

Dean looked at him worriedly, and made himself a cup of coffee. He returned to Seth in the sitting room. He didn't know what to say, but didn't have to, because Seth began to talk.

"I came to New York early because I was supposed to spend a few days with my Wall Street guy. But on the way, I decided to break it off instead. I...I might be a sub, but I don't deserve the way he treated me." Seth hated having to lie, especially to Dean, but the situation made it necessary. He realized there was no one he could _ever_ tell the true story to. But, even with the changes, he was still getting the story out, and with it, all the months of humiliation and deep pain.

"I wanted to break it off face to face, so I still went to his place from the airport, as planned. I...I don't remember how he got the upper hand on me; I got knocked out. I can remember riding up in the elevator, and then I woke up cuffed to a chair. I don't know if it was minutes or hours later. My head was throbbing, and I felt like I'd been in a mosh pit." Seth touched the lump on the top of his head. "I think this was the knockout shot."

Dean nodded, and squeezed his hand.

"I never should have gone there." Another lump was rising in his throat, he didn't know how he could cry again after he'd already cried so much. He buried his face in his hands, and felt Dean rubbing his back and squeezing his shoulders. He sniffled. "He... He... He _raped me!_ It hurt _so_ bad! Oh, Dean!" Seth turned into Dean's embrace again as he broke down.

Dean held him tight and rubbed his trembling back. "Seth, sweetheart, none of this is your fault. You're safe now, you're with me, and I'm going to do everything I can to protect you because..." No, he couldn't say those three words yet, though he'd felt them for so long, and said them so casually to Seth several times before, _I love ya, man. Shield brothers forever._

Seth looked up at him, his big brown eyes red and wet. "Will you stay with me? Please?"

Dean drew him close, and kissed him deeply. "Yes. I will always be here for you, always."

"Thank you." Seth wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "I feel so much better now, with you here. I should go wash my face, I probably look terrible."

Dean smiled. "You never look terrible."

Seth smiled, too, and went to the sink in the kitchenette and splashed some cool water on his face, and cupped some more in his hands to drink.

"You're limping," Dean said, as his lover came back to the sofa.

Seth nodded. "Yeah. He fucked up my knee, too. I've got it wrapped, I really should be staying off of it, but-"

"So you shall," Dean said. "Come on, we'll go watch TV in the bedroom, and ice and elevate your knee." He grabbed the throw pillows from the couch, and followed Seth to his bed, and began building a nest.

"Did you contact work to let them know about your knee?"

"Um, no, it's just a sprain after all. I can work with it, and it will work itself out." Seth sat down on the bed, and put his leg up on the pillows and folded blanket his lover had arranged for the purpose.

Dean looked uncertain. He handed Seth the remote. "I'll get you some ice, and something to drink, I'll be right back."

Seth found a _Simpsons_ marathon, and settled in to watch. He knew he really should call Stephanie back, if for nothing more than to let her know what kind of man her husband was; but really, he needed to tell her he was done playing their games. If that meant he wouldn't get to keep his championship, or even his job, then so be it. But, he couldn't call her with Dean around, and speak openly.

Dean returned with a bag of ice, and a bottle of orange juice. He tried to give Seth the orange juice. It was the same brand Hunter had forced him to drink in the car, and he waved it away. "No thanks."

"But you said you're dehydrated, and you actually look like it, too, honey. You need some fast energy."

Seth shook his head. "No."

Dean set the juice on the night table and tenderly placed the bag of ice on Seth's knee before settling down beside him. "Why don't you want to drink? Have you been eating?"

"Not really, no. I don't want to have to shit until I'm somewhat healed up."

"Understandable. But you still need fluids." He pinched the back of Seth's hand to show him how dehydrated he was.

"I know. My bladder is sort of weak and sore. I don't want to put anything in it. He forced me drink tons of water, Powerade, iced tea, and orange juice yesterday, while I was in bondage. This was before he...you know..." Seth trailed off.

Dean nodded. "You should really tell the bosses what happened to you, though. They'll keep everything hush-hush of course. You really need some time off to recover from-"

"The only one who's going to know about this is you, Dean. I'll be just fine to fly thirteen hours to London bright and early on Saturday, and do RAW, and all those house shows."

That made Seth think about his travel plans and realized he'd have to change them. There was no way he was spending all that time in the air with the Authority. He wanted to book a different flight if possible, even if he had to be in coach, and of course he would need his own room, too. He added it to his mental list of to dos.

"I don't know, sweetness," Dean shook his head as he felt the lump on the top of Seth's head again. "You really should go see a doctor. You don't have to tell them you were raped, but you might have gotten a concussion."

"I didn't get a concussion," Seth replied. "I'll be fine."

"Well, how about some IV fluids?"

Seth finally picked up the orange juice and drank some. Dean smiled.

Around three o'clock, he sent Dean to go get some Thai takeout, and finally called Stephanie. She answered on the first ring. "Seth Rollins, you have no idea how much trouble you're in-"

"Stop it, Stephanie, just shut the fuck up! Your days of talking to me like a fucking kid or a damn dog are through!"

For a moment, Stephanie was so quiet that Seth thought she might have hung up, but then she was there again. "Sethie, I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Now come back home from wherever you're hiding-"

"That's not home to me! And I'm never going back to your house, ever!"

"Sethie, you're making a big mistake. If you don't get your shiny red ass back here by dinnertime, my husband will bury you at Wrestlemania," Stephanie informed him coldly.

"Your husband raped me."

"You lie!"

"No. Go look in the ring in the Tool Shed. He probably didn't clean it up. That's _my_ blood. He did that to me."

"Sounds more like it got a little too rough for you, Sethie," Stephanie cooed. "Everyone knows you like it rough. Don't try to call it rape, either, I know how much you've always wanted my husband. You wanted it, and couldn't handle what he gave you, which only makes sense since he's so many more times the man you are."

"It _was_ rape. And, I didn't want it. Yes, I used to have a crush on him, but that was five years ago. I didn't 'ask for it'. And, while I may like it a little rough, that doesn't compare at all to what he did to me. When he did it, he crossed a line. Before he raped me, I would have done anything for him, for you, for the business, for my career. Now I'm done playing his games, and yours, and if you want to take my title and can my ass, do it. I don't fucking care anymore. I can wrestle for any other promotion in the world!"

"Only because of my husband. He made you what you are today. If it wasn't for my husband taking you under his wing, you'd still be wrestling in veterans' posts and making wrestling-themed porn."

"That's not true, and you know it, and I worked damn hard every fucking day and night to get to where I am today. I was in the indies for five years before I signed with FCW, and I'd already made a name for myself. I was going to be big whether or not I signed with WWE-"

"Oh, please, Sethie, you couldn't even get into TNA," Stephanie reminded him. "Now quit being foolish and stubborn and come back home."

"I said _no,"_ Seth repeated. "Yes, I was foolish...to ever agree to the plans that you laid out for me! And, I was stubborn, because I stayed and put up with months of degradation, humiliation, and not even being treated like a human being! Why would I ever come back to you? You're a...horrible person."

Stephanie laughed. "Yes, Sethie, I _am_ a horrible person. I am a cruel person. But, I'm a shrewd businesswoman, and my husband and I have been crucial to the success of my family's company."

"People like me have been crucial to the success of your family's company!" Seth shot back. "Those of us from the indies, from New Japan, TNA, ROH, those of us you signed to NXT, so you could call us home-grown talent. _I_ made NXT what it is today."

Stephanie snorted. _"Because my husband chose you. I_ didn't want to sign you. _My father_ didn't want to sign you. No one else wanted to sign you besides _my husband._ If not for him, you'd have never made it into our company. _You_ know that."

"Yes, I know no one wanted to hire me besides him. But, that doesn't give him the right to rape me."

"I wish you would stop using that ugly word to describe what happened, Sethie."

"I'm calling it what it is. Now, I've got to wrap this up, I have a dinner date."

"A date?" Stephanie asked, sternly. "Your special contract strictly forbids you from dating."

"That contract no longer applies. I will relinquish my title on _RAW."_

"You... You will do nothing of the sort!"

Seth laughed. "Don't worry, I'll always do _what's best for business_ , but I won't be doing business with you or your rapist husband any more. I will be making my own travel and lodging arrangements for the European tour, and will show up when and where I'm supposed to, and say what I'm told to, and do what I'm told to during the shows, but that's it. When we get back to the states, I'm going _home,_ to Davenport, before the next show. See you in London." He hung up before she could reply.


	9. Chapter 9

Seth couldn't believe his luck. The seat beside Dean's on his flight to London was still available. And, it left tomorrow night, there was not even a chance he'd run into Hunter at the airport. Also, it wasn't thirteen hours long, only about eight, he had no idea why he thought it would take thirteen hours, but who cared anymore, he'd be spending them with Dean, not Hunter. He booked his flight, then turned around to hug Dean. He was so excited, for the first time since their Shield days, he was going to be traveling with Dean, and now that he'd fallen in love with him (no use denying that), it was going to be special.

Another special first was sharing a bed with Dean. Although they had roomed together on the road before, they had never slept in the same bed. They were both tired early, and retired to the bedroom. They stripped to their briefs, and Dean smiled to see Seth wearing a pair of his, the ones he'd peed in and had been about to throw out before Seth asked for them. Dean stretched out on the bed, and patted the spot beside him.

Seth laid his head down on Dean's chest and breathed deep his smell, listened to his heartbeat, felt the rhythm of his breathing. Dean was stroking the blonde streak in his hair, and Seth responded by reaching over to play with Dean's strawberry-blonde mane and stroke his shoulder and neck.

"Mmmm..." Dean sighed, and snugged his lover. "I... That feels so nice." He'd almost slipped again.

Sleepy Seth yawned a little. "I... You... You make me feel so safe, so cared about..."

"I do care about you, Seth. A lot. You don't know how hard it was for me not to go tearing up and down Wall Street in search of your ex after you told me what he did to you. To see you in pain makes me hurt, too."

Seth's heart was pounding so loud he was sure Dean could hear it.

"All day long, yesterday, all I could think about was you," Dean continued. "The first thing I did when I arrived in New York was go to corporate. I was hoping to see you, but you weren't there. So, I hit the gym. I had my headphones on, and that old Korn song _A.D.I.D.A.S._ came on, and every time I heard the line 'all day I dream about sex', I heard it as 'all day I dream about _Seth'_." He blushed, and chuckled.

Again, Seth wanted to tell him about how he'd been living since Wrestlemania, the true story behind that iconic backstage picture of him clasping his newly-won title with residual disbelief, standing forehead-to-forehead in an embrace with Hunter. _Once again, my protege, my pet, you are mine._ He wanted to tell Dean he loved him. He opened his mouth, and a big yawn came out rather than any words. "I'm sorry, I haven't been able to get much sleep lately," he apologized.

"Neither have I, traveling with the twins. Every night's a party. I came to New York early just to give my liver a break." Dean laughed.

"Every night since I became champion has been all business for me. Even when I'm not on the road, I'm never truly off. And, despite all the fucking public appearances I have to make, there's always some weirdo gaping at me at the gym, or some stupid teenager standing in front of me with their phone out to take a selfie while I'm pumping gas. I hate it, it's creepy." Seth shuddered, and yawned again.

Dean stroked his back, and yawned, too. "Yeah, it can be. Fortunately, I haven't had anything too crazy happen...yet. I've heard stories, though. One time, Roman said..."

Seth fell asleep to the music of Dean's voice.

But his dreams were not as sweet, for he awoke covered in sweat, his heart pounding, his throat sore from screaming. He mistook Dean's comforting arms for Hunter's restraining ones and blindly pushed him away. "Don't touch me! Don't you fucking touch me!"

"Seth... Seth, honey, it's me." Dean said, patiently. He turned on the light and saw the relief wash over his lover's tear-stained face. "C'mere." He held out his arms, and Seth clung to him, trembling like a kicked dog. "Relax, my love. I'm here, and you're safe. He can never hurt you again, Seth. I will never let that happen."

"I know," Seth replied, in a hoarse whisper, and coughed.

"I'll get you some water." Dean gave him a quick nuzzle, then got up and went to the kitchenette. Again, he was struggling to keep his emotions under control, he had to be strong, for Seth. He grabbed two bottles of water, and headed back to Seth.

Seth was at the sink in the bathroom, washing his face. Dean handed him one of the water bottles. Seth took it gratefully, and polished off half of it. "Thank you, love."

Dean smiled sheepishly, and blushed, because Seth had called him "love". "How's the knee?"

"On the mend," Seth replied, and slapped it. "Come on, let's go back to bed."

With his head on his lover's chest, Seth was asleep in no time, but sleep was not coming easily for Dean. He stroked Seth's hair, he couldn't bear to see his lover in so much pain, so unlike his usual self. Gone was his crossfit Jesus, his aerial architect, his champion. He had to do whatever he could to help Seth recover. He couldn't afford to direct his feelings into anger, hatred, and revenge on Seth's ex. Seth needed him.

Seth's breathing was very deep and regular now. Dean buried his face in the two-tone hair he loved, and took in his scent, and the texture of the frizzy curls against his bristly cheek.

"I love you, Seth," Dean whispered. Finally saying it, even though Seth hadn't heard him, brought a little relief, and he relaxed enough to fall back to sleep.

Seth didn't have another nightmare. When Dean woke up, he was still peaceful, and in his arms. Very carefully, Dean slid out from beneath him, replacing his chest with his pillow. He dashed to the bathroom, then the kitchenette. He used the Keurig, which he secretly despised because one small cup of coffee was not enough, and checked the time. It was just before eight. He wondered if he should brew Seth a cup of coffee and order their breakfasts. He had no idea when Seth woke up when he wasn't working, or if he'd want to eat breakfast this morning.

So instead, he left a note for his lover, and headed down to the hotel's gym for a workout. When he returned an hour later, Seth still hadn't woken up, so he ordered breakfast and made himself another cup of coffee. Just after the food arrived, Seth came into the kitchenette, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He saw Dean with the tray.

"Ah, so that's who was knocking," Seth said, and yawned again.

Dean set the tray on the counter, and hugged sleepy Seth. "Good morning, sweetness."

"Morning, love. What time is it?"

"Almost nine thirty." Dean sat down at the counter, and patted the tall stool beside him. "Help yourself to some breakfast, I'll make you a coffee."

Seth shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I'd better hit the restroom first. Surprised I slept so late, usually my bladder wakes me up pretty early."

Dean made his lover's coffee, and a few minutes later, Seth returned, dressed in another Tap Out sweatsuit, hair wet down and pulled back, and smelling of Axe. He didn't want to sit down, though. "I'll be doing that for eight hours tonight." He sipped his coffee.

Dean pushed the tray over to him. "Eat, honey. Or did you want to order your own?"

Seth shook his head, then took two toast triangles from Dean's plate. "I seem to have stopped bleeding. Not in a hurry to start up again."

Dean nodded. "How's your knee?"

"It's good. I took the wrapping off, going to see how it goes."

"And the lump on your head?"

"Diminished. No concussion symptoms, either, because I know you're going to ask." Seth smiled at him, and Dean patted his leg. "I actually feel like working out."

"You shouldn't, though. You'll probably start bleeding again, and you still look dehydrated."

Seth shrugged, and got a bottle of water. "Easily remedied. And, I wasn't planning on anything too crazy, maybe just a walk on a treadmill."

Dean shook his head, and got up to hug him from behind. "You have to start taking it easy, Seth. Please, don't work out today. Just relax, play some games, sleep, cuddle with me, and give your body a chance to heal. Please, honey, for me."

Seth nodded. "Okay, for you, my love."

After breakfast, Dean arranged an unnecessary, but very nice, nest for Seth's injured body on the sofa, using every pillow and cushion he could find, and they settled in to drink coffee and play Madden. Seth welcomed the distraction of video games, let Dean pamper him, and for the next few hours completely escaped the mess he was in.

After playing a few games with Seth, Dean left to do their laundry. At the laundromat, he caught sight of a pair of Seth's boxer briefs that had a bloodstain, and a terrible, sick, sad, angry feeling came over him. He put them in the washer, started it up, then sat down in a hard plastic chair and buried his head in his hands and massaged his temples. He had no idea what Seth was going through, he himself had never been raped. All he knew was that Seth was hurt, traumatized, and-

"Excuse me? Sir?" A woman's voice, and Dean moved his hands and looked up to see its owner, a plump woman in gaudy striped leggings and purple UGG boots, standing beside who had to be her daughter, who looked to be about ten, and wouldn't know you it, she was wearing an "Ambrose Stole My Heart" t-shirt. A young fan, his favorite kind, because he could still remember being a one, and how special it felt to meet his favorite wrestlers. He felt good to be able to pay it back, to be someone's favorite wrestler.

The girl's eyes lit up excitedly, and she tugged at her mother's sweater. "Oh my god, Mom! I told you it was him!"

"Shhh, Mady," the lady shushed her.

Mady gaped at him with a silly, amazed smile on her freckled face, eyes bright with tears, knees trembling. Dean smiled warmly at her, and the girl clasped a hand to her mouth to stifle a scream. "What are you doing _here?"_ The girl asked, incredulous, as though they were on the moon, and it was indeed made of green cheese.

"Mady-" Mady's mom began, looking embarrassed.

"Doing some laundry before my flight tonight," Dean told her. "As you probably know, we'll be spending the next ten days in Europe."

Mady nodded. "Uh-huh." Her face was becoming pale, and Dean patted the chair beside him, and brimming with pleasure, the girl sat, and stared at him.

"Eighteen shows in ten days," Dean continued. "Nice shirt, by the way. Would you like me to sign it?"

"Yes! Mom, do you have a marker?"

Mady's mom dug around in her purse and produced a Sharpie. Dean vaguely wondered who the hell carries around a Sharpie. "This may bleed through on to her skin," Dean warned.

"That's okay, it'll wash off eventually."

"I don't want it to wash off the shirt!" Mady wailed.

"We'll have Grandma embroider over it, like she did with Grandpa's Pats shirt."

"Oh, wow! Then it'll be forever!" Mady bounced excitedly.

Dean smiled. "Turn around, I'll sign on the back. Try to stay still, this might tickle." He moved her ponytail, and smoothed out the shirt over her left shoulder and drew his DA symbol, modified anarchy. He put effort into it, and was pleased with his results. He took a picture with his phone, and showed it to her.

"Oh, wow! Can I have a picture, too?"

"Of course." Dean posed smiling with the girl while her mother took a picture with her phone. "Do you mind if I have a copy, too? I'd like to put it on my Instagram. You see, I was having a pretty rough day, and meeting you and your daughter made it a lot brighter, took my mind off of things. Hashtag thank you WWE universe. I'd even give you guys a shout out, if you wanted, but if you'd rather not, that's fine."

Mady's mom was pleasantly surprised. "Mady would love that."

"I'm going to be on your official Instagram?" Mady asked.

"If you want to be. Your mom said it was okay." He handed Mady's mom his phone, and she took a picture and showed it to him. "Thank you. I really mean it, it was great to meet you guys today."

"Thank you, Mr. Ambrose. Mady will remember this forever, I'm sure."

"Oh my god, I sure will!" Mady said dreamily. "And, I'm Mady with one D and a Y, just four letters."

"Just like my name," Dean said, just to see her eyes twinkle.

"And I'm Melody, spelled the normal way," Mady's mom said.

"Do you have a selfie stick in there?" Dean gestured at her purse. "I'd like one of the three of us."

Melody laughed. "I think I do, actually." She dug in her purse, and came up with one.

Dean affixed it to his phone, and they posed against a dryer, Mady on top, Dean leaning back, Melody smiling at her daughter. They looked like a laundry detergent commercial, the bosses would love it once they saw it, but Dean loved it, too. He'd just given a kid a fan interaction she would never forget, he had made a positive impact in someone's life, and it soothed him.

He didn't know how to soothe Seth. After he posted both pics on Facebook, with a long entry about his experience with the day-changing Mady and Melody, and the pic of the three of them on his official WWE Instagram, with a shorter entry, and the thank you WWE universe hashtag, he wondered how Seth would handle the grueling schedule of the European tour in his fragile state. Eighteen shows, no downtime, uncomfortable travel arrangements, little personal space, let alone privacy. Even before the rape, Seth had not been looking well. He didn't ever look ill, but stressed, frazzled, a guitar string that would break on the next hard pluck. Dean remembered thinking the schedule may be catching up to his former Shield brother back when they were working their feud, and Seth had been extremely abrasive and irritable. Now it occurred to Dean that Seth's stress had probably been due to both the demands of being a champion and whatever that Wall Street guy was putting him through on his days off.

When Dean came back with the laundry, Seth was standing at the counter, eating a roast beef sandwich. He looked a lot better, and smiled warmly at Dean and came to help with the clothes. "Hunger strike broken?"

"Yeah, I had to. After drinking a shit ton of water, I got a stomachache. Had to put something in it." He began helping Dean sort and fold their things. Even though they had done laundry together on the road before, it had a nice, old married couple feeling to it now.

"Feeling better?" Dean asked.

"Definitely. I'm going to get through this." Seth said, his face hard with determination.

Dean set down the shirt he'd just folded, and turned to hug Seth. "I know you will. And, I'll be with you through it all."

They shared a kiss which became a French kiss, which gave Dean a hard on he didn't want Seth to notice. But he didn't, he just smiled dreamily, and picked up one of Dean's t-shirts. "I'm not over it yet, not by far, but life goes on, and the show must go on."

"Yes," Dean said, "and it will. Eighteen shows in ten days. Are you sure you're ready?"

Seth laughed. "No. Can you honestly say you're ready for that?"

Dean shook his head, and chuckled.


	10. Chapter 10

In the screening line at the airport, Seth felt a sense of deja vu. Just like when he'd been waiting in line at the TSA checkpoint in Atlanta, he was bursting for a piss. They'd hit traffic on the way to the the airport, and Seth, who'd already re-hydrated himself quite well, unwisely shared a bottle of water with Dean. He'd wanted to stop at the men's room after they'd gotten their boarding passes, but there had been a long line, and Dean had seemed a little stressed about the wait in screening, so Seth decided not to speak up and just join the screening line. He was regretting it now.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "If this line doesn't start moving faster, I'm going to piss my fucking pants," he whispered to Dean.

"Oh no, seriously?" He looked down at Seth, who was blushing.

He nodded. "I really have to go bad."

Dean looked behind them, the line was very long now, if Seth left, he might not make it to the gate in time, especially if he needed to wait in line for the restroom, too. He gave Seth a sympathetic look, and a hug. "My poor guy."

"At least the line's moving," Seth commented, as they stepped forward.

Just over half an hour of pure misery later, Seth was finally able to get in line for a men's room. He had to do everything he could to keep what felt like a liter of piss inside him, at one point having to kneel down on the floor, one hand down his pants and boxer briefs squeezing his cock tight as he rocked back and forth and pretended to look through his backpack. Dean did his best to screen his embarrassment from anyone who might be watching, but Seth's very visible desperation wasn't helping his own situation, even though he probably didn't need to pee as terribly as Seth did, watching him only made it worse.

Seth had only been this desperate in public once before, during a match on _RAW_ , no less, and had ended up pissing his special ops pants, but no one found out except his tag team partner, Roman. Watching replays of the match, he'd been pleased at how well he'd hidden the battle he was having with his body and stayed in character, and his bulky special ops vest had hidden his piss gut, no one could tell the architect of the Shield was badly in need of a piss break. But, he'd learned a lesson from that night; never pass up the chance to piss. Well, maybe he hadn't learned his lesson, because he could have gone before screening, but instead he was pacing back and forth, hand down his pants and holding his dick, his undies, which had gotten quite wet from the squirts and spurts he'd been unable to stop, despite all of his efforts, pulled down around his hips.

The line shuffled forward, and Seth made a soft, impatient, whining sound. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He hissed, through clenched teeth. His skin was tingling, he was sweating and shivering, and he knew it was only a matter of a minute or two before he completely lost control.

Dean rubbed his hunched shoulders. "Shhh, honey, we're almost there," he said soothingly. He could see how close Seth was to losing his cool, which wouldn't be good. Luckily, the line shifted forward again, and they were in the restroom, and Seth was next.

He paced back and forth in front of the stalls and eyed the backs of guys at the urinals with impatience and hatred. He used his free hand to bang on the stall doors. "Fuck! Hurry up!" His bladder cramped painfully, and he froze in place, bit his lips, and tried to resist, squeezing his cock as tightly as he could, but a big spurt of piss escaped, and ran hotly down his right leg and into his sock. He looked down and whimpered when he saw a few drips on the floor at his feet. His bladder had given him his last warning. A guy seemed to be shaking off at one of the urinals, but Seth was no longer sure he could walk that far without losing it.

But, luck was on his side, as it seemed to have been ever since he'd fled his private hell. The stall door closest to where he was standing began to open, and he jumped in, nearly knocking over the guy who'd left, and instantly started pissing.

"Seth!" Dean scolded, and held the door shut for him.

Heady with relief, Seth laughed. He didn't even realize he hadn't shut the door until Dean yelled at him. After he was done, he inspected the damage, and it wasn't anything major. He felt good. In just a little over eight hours, he and Dean would be in London.

Even though he'd slept a lot already the past two days, Seth slept through most of the flight, too. So did Dean. Neither of them stirred until the flight attendant woke them because they were going to go into landing sequence shortly.

At the airport, Dean got a rental car, and they went directly to his hotel room to order room service lunch. Seth sat down on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes. "I need to shower."

Dean almost asked him if he wanted company, then wanted to kick himself for it. He apparently didn't hide those feelings very well, because Seth smiled sweetly at him, one eyebrow up, and chuckled when he blushed. He wanted to invite Dean to join him in the shower, but he knew he wasn't ready. He realized the last person he'd showered with was Hunter, and before Dean could see his smile fall, he stood up. "I'll only be a few minutes."

He had bled a little, and felt gross because of it, and he smelled like piss from his close call back at JFK. He washed himself with the hotel soap, and wet down his hair again, but didn't wash it. If he washed it too often, the frizz only got worse. When he pulled back the curtain, Dean was there, at the sink, running an electric razor over his face.

"I'm sorry, Seth," he apologized. "I wasn't trying to be a voyeur or anything-"

Seth smiled. "Don't worry about it. Hand me a towel?"

Dean almost blindly thrust a towel at him. He didn't take it. "Dean, it's okay. You can look at me, it's not going to make me feel uncomfortable, I promise."

Dean turned and looked upon his boyfriend's beautiful, wet, tanned, ripped body, and was overcome with love so strong he knew Seth could see it, maybe even feel it. Seth took the towel, a small, sweet smile still teasing his mouth as he dried himself. Afterwards, he wrapped it around his hips, and stepped out of the tub and held out his arms. "C'mere, honey."

And Dean flowed into them, feeling as though he'd turned into a wad of pink goo with X's for eyes. If only he weren't so chickenshit, he could tell Seth he loved him. But, instead, he returned Seth's kisses.

"A bunch of people are already here, and want to do some sightseeing before we have to be at the arena. Sasha put out a bulk message, so you probably got the invite, too, and a bunch of other ones, since some people forwarded the message on." Dean said, after they parted, and Seth started brushing his hair. "Did you want to go?"

Seth thought. It had been a long time since he'd really been able to hang out with anyone besides his rapist, his rapist's sadistic wife, or their current toadies, save the last _Smackdown_ after party, where he'd first discovered his true feelings for Dean. "I think that's a great idea. I should probably wrap my knee, though."

"Is it still hurting that much?"

"No honey, this is just a precaution." Seth closed the lid on the toilet and sat down to wrap it, wondering if there was some place nearby that sold Tommy Copper. Afterwards, he fretted over what to wear. He wanted to dress nice, but his designer jeans were too tight; he was paranoid someone would notice he was wearing a pad. He could probably go without it, the spotting on the flight was probably just due to sitting so long, and the change in altitude and pressure. And, he would have to go without protection tonight, in the ring. They were filming _RAW_ , at least it wouldn't be live, and at least the ring attire he'd brought was black. To his knowledge, he wasn't even booked in a match tonight, but that could change at a moment's notice, and probably would. He was going to be punished.

He tried not to dwell on it, and turned to his current problem, finding something nice to wear. He decided to go a little dressier, and tried on a pair of black cargo pants that reminded him of the ones he'd worn during his and Dean's Shield days. He smiled, and just for fun, turned his "Indisputable Future" t-shirt inside out to make it a plain black t-shirt, and put it on.

"Hey, honey," he called to Dean, who was digging through his own bags. He turned around, and smiled happily.

"Sierra!" Seth folded his arms and cocked his head, and made his trademark smug scowl.

"Hotel!" Dean giggled, and responded with his own Shield pose. "Are those really your old pants?"

Seth laughed. "No. But don't they look just like it?" He struck another pose, looking in the mirror this time to make sure the pad didn't show. It didn't.

Dean came over to kiss him. "Yes they do. And, you look oh-so-good in them, too."

When Seth arrived at the arena, Kane was waiting for him. "Stephanie wants to see you immediately," he told Seth, and looked down at Dean with disdain. "Alone, Ambrose."

Dean squeezed Seth's shoulder. "I'll be in the locker room."

Seth nodded. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it might burst, that he would die, or at the very least, faint. His ears were ringing and his bladder was throbbing. He could smell the adrenaline in his sweat, instinct had taken over, it was fight or flight. And, he wasn't a pussy, he was a fighter, he was going to fight. He knocked on the door to the temporary office.

"Just go on in, Tyler," Kane ordered.

Bravely, Seth raised his head to look Kane in the eyes. "I'm not Tyler Black. I'm Seth Freakin' Rollins." He pulled down on the door handle, and on the verge of passing out, throwing up, or wetting his pants, he stepped inside.

When he saw Stephanie was alone, he literally went shaky with relief. "Nice of you to finally make an appearance, Seth. Sit down."

Seth sat only because his legs felt like twin Jenga towers in the late stages of the game. Kane hovered behind him, close enough to touch him if he'd wanted to.

"Because you're in violation of your special contract, a whole new story line had to be written just for you, and it starts tonight. You'll be working with Kane, and at _Survivor Series_ you'll be dropping your title to him. Until then, you're to continue in your role as our golden boy."

"Not with Hunter."

"Oh yes with Hunter," Stephanie almost sang, and Kane snorted.

"No," Seth said, firmly. "I refuse to work with my rapist."

Stephanie laughed. "Rapist?"

"I'm serious, Stephanie. You make me work with him, I'll go to my lawyer. I'll go to the police. And, I'll go to the press." Seth was finally calming down, and suddenly felt very strong. He'd come to the realization that _he_ had the upper hand.

And, he could see from his boss' deer-in-the-headlights expression, that she knew it, too, but she responded: "I don't think you'll do that, Seth. Look at all the dirty secrets we buried about you. I don't think your rape accusations will be taken seriously once the whole world finds out there's video evidence of you enjoying yourself in your many Cyberfights 'matches'."

"Yeah, I enjoyed them, not like I could hide it, and if you put them out there, I won't deny it, I'm not ashamed. But, what your husband did to me was _never_ consensual. I took pictures of what he did to me." That was a bluff, he had been much too shocked to think about it at the time, but it was more leverage he could use.

"Damn. Fine, Seth, no Hunter."

"On screen and off," Seth insisted.

Stephanie nodded, almost wearily. "And off," she agreed, and slid some papers across the table. "Here's your itinerary for tonight. Hunter will be removed from any of your segments, and won't join me ringside during your main event match."

Seth scanned the papers. Yeah, he was getting punished on screen for being raped off screen.

"You no longer have a private dressing room," Stephanie informed him.

"You think I care about that anymore? After what he did to me? My stuff's already in the fucking locker room!"

"Good, because you get no more special treatment."

"I don't want any more of your 'special treatment'. Your 'special treatment' fucking sucks!"

 _"You_ suck, Seth, if I remember right," Stephanie retorted, and she and Kane shared a laugh.

Seth took his papers and left. He felt a million times better, even if his night on air was going to suck. He was going to be jumped twice, and lose a no-DQ match again Kane. While Kane would not work him stiff, the Social Outcasts might, when they jumped him during his promo, and again backstage. The only uncomfortable thing left was the need to piss, and he quickened his pace and hurried for the locker room.

He was greeted by a naked Bo Dallas. "Well..." Bo drawled, his voice full of exaggerated worship and wonderment. "Look who's decided to join us, boys!" He stepped in front of Seth, backed up by his fellow enhancement talent. "If it isn't the god of NXT, the crossfit Jesus, our reigning WWE champion, the Indisputable Future, the Architect, Seth Freakin' Rollins. To what do we owe this great honor?"

Seth didn't answer, he just smiled, because Dean was standing behind Bo, and with him, behind the other Social Outcasts, were Sami, Tony, Xavier, Big E, and even as Seth watched, more guys appeared. Bo and company noticed, and parted to make way for Seth to enter the restroom.

Dean followed him, and gave him a hug and kiss. "How did things go with the boss?"

"I'm dropping my title to Kane at _Survivor Series._ " Seth replied, simply.

"Oh, Seth-" Dean began, his voice pregnant with sympathy.

"No, it's what I want." His bladder cramped, and he whimpered and extracted himself from Dean's embrace.

"But why?" Dean asked, as Seth started pissing.

Seth shook his head. "It's too much responsibility, too many obligations. I haven't been home since before _Wrestlemania_."

Dean nodded. "Not that I'll ever have a chance to find out." He outlined the wall tiles beside the sinks with his fingertips and sighed. He knew they'd never put anything higher than the Intercontinental or US championship on him, and Seth knew it, too, so he changed the subject. "I don't know why some of the guys are being dicks towards you. It's really weird."

Seth knew why, it was part of his punishment. But, he couldn't tell Dean that, so he just chuckled and said: "Jealousy" as he shook off and put his delightful cock away.

Dean laughed. "Oh, I agree! They've probably _all got ugly, shriveled up little PEANUT DICKS!"_ He shouted, loud enough for them to hear.

 _RAW_ went better than Seth had anticipated, all things considered. His opening promo was written to make him look weak, and when the Social Outcasts interrupted it and jumped him, they did it for real. Seth was punched and stomped on, but he fought back, and beat the hell out of Adam Rose before rearranging Heath Slater's face with a knee strike. He felt bad about the latter, Heath was the only one of the four who'd been unable to land a blow. The second time they jumped him, they treated him with respect, except for Bo, who began spanking him and laughing. Seth, who was afraid his ass would start bleeding again, turned around, and decked him right in his ugly face. He did not see Hunter all night, so Stephanie was keeping to her agreement. By the end of the night, Seth felt as though he'd been more or less accepted back into the locker room. There was an after party, but he didn't go. His knee was bothering him, a throbbing, near-constant pain. He and Dean went back to their hotel room, to snuggle and play games while Seth iced his knee.

The next night, _Smackdown_ was taped in the same arena. Seth wasn't jumped or handled roughly, but he was booked in two matches, as the loser. By the end of his last match, the main event, his knee was absolutely killing him, and he had to wrap it before he could even leave to walk across the street to the hotel. He did it on the toilet, so no one would see. Again, he and Dean skipped the after party to nurse his knee. Dean was worried, and voiced his worries. It seemed as though it was getting better, not worse, and again suggested he tell the bosses what happened, so it could be checked out. Again, Seth replied that it was not necessary, it was just a sprain. But, he was beginning to question that. In addition to the increasing pain, his knee didn't feel as strong and solid as it usually did.


	11. Chapter 11

Monday was a miserable day of travel on a cramped charter bus that smelled like shit and British convenience store food, over the crappiest roads. Seth couldn't handle it. He was terrified he'd need to throw up, and there wasn't a restroom on the bus. Then, one of the ladies spilled nail polish, and the fumes gave him a headache, too. Miserable, he tried to doze, his left cheek against the cool glass window, raindrops on the other side, but it was impossible with the bumps, and Dean's fidgeting. He learned Dean could get pretty cranky when he needed a piss break. The bus stopped every two to three hours for that, but due to the amount of coffee Dean had had, he was complaining before every stop.

The last stop before their destination had a fish and chips stand, and many people lined up there. Seth didn't, the smell alone was increasing his nausea. He went into the convenience store, and bought Sprite, water, a banana, and a bag of almonds. He sat down at a little table still filthy with previous diners' crumbs, and started with the Sprite.

"Hey, Seth, can I join you?" It was Sasha, with a limp-looking prepackaged salad, and a bottle of tea.

Seth managed a small smile. "Saddle up, buckaroo."

Sasha laughed, but when she sat down across from him, her face crinkled in concern. "Are you feeling okay? You look kind of pale."

Seth shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I've felt like throwing up ever since I got on the bus. Then, after someone spilled nail polish, I got a headache from the fumes."

Sasha looked down, guilty. "That was me. I'm so sorry, Seth."

"It's all good, accidents happen. Though I don't know what possessed you to try painting your nails on a road like that."

"Tamina was painting Naomi's nails; I was just holding the bottle."

"Butterfingers," Seth teased, to show her he wasn't mad. "Can you watch my stuff? I should see what they have for medicine here."

Sasha began digging in her purse. "I can hook you up. I have Excedrin and Tums."

"Both, please."

"Poor Seth." Sasha patted his arm, and slid the bottles across the table.

Other people began drifting towards the table, and most of them had fish and chips. The odor did nothing to whet Seth's appetite, he had to force himself to eat and drink. He had to be in two house shows tonight, if he didn't get some nourishment, he'd pass out.

Many of his coworkers brought their fish and chips on board the bus, and after about twenty minutes, Seth could no longer convince his stomach not to expel it's contents. His mouth was watering. He grabbed the first plastic bag he saw, and dumped out the contents, to the protests of its owner, which he barely heard, because he was already gagging, retching, spewing out everything he'd managed to eat and drink at that last stop. The spasms and effort made his already-sore body ache even more, and he saw through his tears that he'd missed the bag at first, there was a splash of puke on the back of the seat in front of him, dripping on the floor, and even some on his pants and shoes. It smelled terrible. Seth was humiliated, the only comfort he could take in it was that it didn't happen from the other end.

Dean rubbed his shoulders, and gathered more plastic bags and napkins to help him dispose of the puke. Soon, people were handing them hand wipes, Kleenex, gum, water, even a bottle of mouthwash. Seth felt surrounded with care. Even though the bus smelled worse now because of him, no one resented him for it. He cleaned himself and the mess he'd made as well as he could, and thanked everyone for their items as he passed them back to their owners. He felt better than he had all day, but Dean, who kept a protective arm around his shoulders, looked concerned nonetheless.

Once they arrived at the arena, Dean voiced his concern during the meeting before the show, and he just came right out and said it: "Seth's sick." Those who'd ridden on the bus with him quickly backed that up. Stephanie glared angrily at Seth, furious that the champion would get sick during the tour.

"I think I just got carsick. I feel fine now," he told her. And, it was true. Once he'd gotten off the bus, and into the open air, he'd felt great.

"Good, because you'd better be at your best tonight, Seth, or-"

"Or what?" Seth challenged, enjoying the open-mouth-insert-foot expression on his boss' face.

Stephanie gave him a hateful look, and handed him his itinerary. "This is the first time we've been to this arena, and we promised you on the card. As of now, you're not booked in a match for the next show, but you have to be there to do the opening promo." She turned her attention to everyone else. "Everyone who's in the second show tonight, listen up. The bus to take you to to the arena leaves right after Seth and Kane's match, the minute Seth gets on, it leaves, so be on it. The bus won't be stopping, so make sure you have something to eat before you get on board, there will be some pizza and sandwiches in the back here after the show starts. Don't bother changing out of your ring attire, just throw some sweats on, Tap Out ones, preferably. If you're not in the second show, the bus to the airport leaves at eight, from here."

Traveling without Dean, who wasn't in the second show, on board another chartered bus, was an abysmal thing. They had said their hasty goodbyes in the locker room, as Seth pulled a black Tap Out sweatsuit over his ring attire, and ate as much pepperoni pizza as he could given the time he had. There had been no time to be sad about it, but now, alone, on a cold autumn evening, heartache was setting in. At least the bus was much nicer. It was newer, the windows opened, and there was even a restroom, should he need to throw up, he'd be able to do it privately and properly, but he didn't think that would happen again. Aside from missing Dean, he was feeling good. Well, except for his knee. He stretched his leg out on the empty seat beside him, and played games on his phone, and told himself he was being silly, he would be reunited with Dean tomorrow, in Dublin. Dean had already reserved his room, and added Seth to the reservation, but by the time Seth arrived at the hotel, Dean would be long gone, he had a lot of public appearances to make before Tuesday's shows, and Seth had an interview on an Irish sports show.

The scheduling was so tight Seth barely had time to slip out of his sweats and wet down his hair before heading out to cut his promo. He'd wanted to wrap his knee, but instead he had to use it like was normal, when it clearly wasn't at this point. He hoped his grimaces of pain were hidden by his haughty sneer as he walked down to the ring, microphone in one hand, the other hand holding his title over his shoulder.

It was the worst job he'd done with a promo since Hunter and Stephanie had sent him out to do one on _RAW_ with a full bladder. Only this time it wasn't his bladder that was distracting him, it was his knee. Rather than pacing back and forth somewhat frantically, he barely moved at all, and tried to put most of his weight on his left leg. He knew his lines, but the worry over his knee was clouding his acting skills, and he couldn't say his lines the way they needed to be said. The pain was constant now that he couldn't baby it, and worst of all, right after he finished the promo, he looked to the ramp, and saw Hunter standing off to the side, just staring at him coldly.

The lights went out, and in the cover of darkness, Seth limped to the back. He did not take the ramp. He slipped unnoticed into a janitor's closet, because he didn't think he could make it all the way to the locker room. He slid immediately to the floor, and childishly held his injured knee as the tears fell.

After recovering for a half an hour in the closet, Seth emerged and gritted his teeth to walk as normally to the locker room as he could manage. Oddly, no one else seemed to be around. Granted, not many guys were in this second show, but it was unlikely they'd all be the in the ring at the same time; maybe there was another buffet set up. But, it was his good luck, he could wrap his knee right here rather than in a toilet cubicle. He pulled down his leather and spandex pants and quickly would the bandage around. He pulled off his ring attire and underwear and pulled on his sweats, which still kind of smelled like pizza, with a faint hint of Dean's cologne. He was smelling the right shoulder of his hoodie when the door opened. It was Hunter.

"Seth, my pet, we need to talk-"

"No we don't," Seth said, quickly, and threw his ring attire into his bag, hoping Hunter couldn't sense his fear, but he didn't know how he couldn't. His hands were shaking, he was shaking all over, and his heart felt like it was beating harder and faster than a rabbit in an eagle's talons. The pain in his knee was near nothing now, and he felt a vague, warm rush just after he stood up to go.

Hunter moved to block his path. "Yes, we do," he said firmly.

 _"NO!"_ Seth shouted. _"I never want to talk to you AGAIN!"_

Hunter grabbed his shoulders. "Seth, lower your voice, now!"

 _"Don't you fucking touch me! You...sick...freak!"_ Seth pulled away from Hunter. _"Go away! I hate you!"_

"Shut the fuck up. You're such an ungrateful little shit. I gave you everything. I made you what you are today, and you best not forget that, stupid Seth."

"You made me your slave in every definition of the word. You made me your dog. You made me-"

"I made you piss yourself," Hunter declared triumphantly, cutting him off. He pointed to the puddle Seth was standing in, barefoot.

Seth realized the warm rush he'd felt after standing up had been his bladder letting go, from fear. He blushed, embarrassed, then angry. "You made me a rape victim! Get out of here and leave me alone, or I'm going to call my lawyer." He grabbed a random towel and threw it over his puddle.

"Rape victim? You? Oh, please, Seth, tell me how in the world that's possible. Don't forget how I found you, where you come from, and that you've always wanted to feel my cock deep inside that precious little ass of yours."

"That was five years ago, Cyberfights was even longer ago than that, and you know damn well that's not where you found me, it's what you found out about me, because god forbid any of your _superstars_ should have worked in other promotions before working for WWE."

 _"That's_ what I made you into, Seth, a superstar. Not just any superstar, but _my_ protege. I made you the very _face_ of this company I dearly love, more than my wife, whose family owns it. I love _you_ more than my wife, Seth."

Seth was appalled. "You _love_ me? Do you have any fucking idea what you did to me? That's your fucking idea of love?"

"You need discipline, Seth, a firm hand to keep you in check. I mean, look at what you just did all over the floor." Hunter pointed. "And you're just putting on your socks and shoes anyway, without washing yourself or changing your pants, what a shame."

"You're a shame. Now let me out of here, or I'm calling my lawyer."

"I'll bet you're going commando under your pissy pants, aren't you, Seth?"

"That's none of your fucking business. Get the fuck out of my way."

Hunter laughed, and didn't move. Instead, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his cuffs. "Such a dirty, foul-mouthed boy. You need a shower, Seth."

Seth saw the bulge in Hunter's pants, and the lust in his eyes. _No! Not again, this is not happening a second time!_ "Not with you I don't. I swear, Hunter, if you ever touch me again-"

The door swung open, and Seth abruptly shut up, and prayed it wouldn't be an ally of Hunter's. Fortunately, it was Enzo and Big Cass, and after talking to them for a bit, Hunter saw fit to depart. Seth had never been happier to see that duo in his entire life, and he collapsed back on the bench in relief once Enzo and Cass went to the showers.

But Enzo, who was sensitive to bullying and harassment, having experienced so much of it himself, had apparently picked up on the vibes, and was worried, because the small, tattooed man reappeared before Seth, wrapped in a towel. His baby blue eyes were full of sympathy.

"You know, it's pretty ironic that a company that touts its anti-bullying campaign has so many bullies within," Enzo mused. He put a small hand on Seth's shoulder. "Listen, Rollins. I know we ain't been that tight, but I can tell that something's going on with you, and if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here for you. Okay, man?"

Seth nodded. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet. But one day, I will be. I need to talk about it."

Enzo nodded, and squeezed his shoulder. "See you on the bus, alright?"

Seth nodded again, and Enzo turned to go back to the showers.

"Hey, Enzo? Thank you."

Enzo turned around and smiled. "It was good timing."


	12. Chapter 12

_This is all just a dream. In a few hours, I'm going to wake up, it'll be Tuesday morning. Have to be up early to get to the airport, Dublin here I come, stop by the hotel room to get the key card and hopefully a shower, then on to the studio, yap-yap-yap, then the arena and done._

He knew it wasn't true. It _was_ Tuesday, Tuesday night, and all of the above had already happened.

He'd known it was serious the moment it happened. A sharp, tearing pain, and he collapsed to the canvas, a dove with a very broken wing. He couldn't get up, his knee was completely non-functioning. Even if it had been, he didn't dare put any weight on it, the pain was already excruciating. There was no playing it off, no sucking it up and finishing the match. He was biting his lips to keep the screams and swears in, and could only shake his head when the ref asked him if he was able to continue.

Now in a Dublin hospital, on heavy pain medication, Seth stared at the ceiling tiles, struggling to accept what had happened to him. He'd torn everything that held his right knee together. He needed surgery. He had to fly back to the states tomorrow night, and see a surgeon in Chicago. He could be out of the ring for half a year, a year, or forever. This could very well be the end of his career.

Yes, he'd wanted to rid himself of his championship, and the heavy burden it had brought, but not like this. He looked at his IV, saline was dripping slowly, like teardrops. Seth didn't think he could cry anymore. He'd already wept torrents of tears for everything that had happened to him since _Wrestlemania,_ which had been both the happiest and most dreadful night of his life.

"Sierra/Hotel/India/Echo/Lima/Delta, The Shield." His phone was ringing. Roman or Dean. Of course, it was Dean.

"Seth! Is is as bad as I've heard?"

"Well, how bad did you hear it was?"

Dean sniffled.

"Don't cry, honey," Seth urged. He hated to think Dean was upset.

"I've just got something in my eye," Dean half-laughed, and cleared his throat. "The trainers told me it was serious."

"Yes, it's serious. Everything that held my knee together is torn. Go ahead, say 'I told you so'." Seth replied, bitterly. Of course, he wasn't mad at Dean, he was mad at himself. He should have told Stephanie about what Hunter had done to his knee.

"I would never do that, Seth. They told me you're going to need surgery."

"Yeah, I'm flying to Chicago tomorrow to meet with a surgeon and get that all set up." _Fuck! Why am I being so cold to him?_

"I wish I could be there for you." Dean's heartbroken voice was little more than a sigh, Dean on the verge of tears.

It softened his lover. "I wish you could, too. But, you know the business..."

"The show _must_ go on."

"And it will...without me..." Seth said, in bewilderment as he realized that fact for the first time. Until his return, he would be written out of the scripts and storylines, different people would feud for _his_ title.

"Seth, honey, I'm... I'm not sure I can go on without you. Shit, that sounded stupid."

"No it didn't, Dean."

"You feel it, too, don't you?"

"Yes," Seth said. "Its-" He stopped, because he heard his door open. "Dean, I have to let you go, someone's here."

"Okay, I'll call you the next chance I get, sweetness. I miss you."

"I miss you, too." _Damn it,_ Seth thought. _We almost said 'I love you'._

He could see two vague silhouettes against the curtain that had been drawn around his bed. "Come in," he called. _Whoever you are._

The click-clack of high heels, and Stephanie appeared from behind the curtain. "Oh, Sethie... You just can't keep yourself out of trouble, can you?"

Before Seth could think of a snappy reply, Hunter jumped from behind the curtain. "Surprise!" He declared, and burst into laughter at Seth's scared face. "Stupid Seth. I didn't make you piss yourself again, did I?"

Seth, whose heart was racing in his ears, barely heard the question. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a mentor visit his injured protege in the hospital?" Hunter asked, and glared at Seth. Stephanie laughed.

"When it comes down to you visiting me, no," Seth replied flatly. He realized that again, he had the upper hand. Help was just the press of a button away, should Hunter try anything.

"Nice interview, by the way," Hunter said, sarcastically. "Hard to believe that the one regret in _your_ career was having to piss under the ring once."

"No, I lied. But, I couldn't very well tell the truth, because the one regret I have in my career is ever agreeing to your special contract."

"While that one may be null and void, your work contract is still in effect," Stephanie continued, all business.

"Yes, until 2019, I _know_ that," Seth snapped.

"Shut up. How dare you interrupt me? Impudent little snot. As I was saying, your work contract is still in effect, so your surgery and recovery will be documented, and turned into a special-"

"No."

Stephanie glared at him; Seth could see she wanted to hit him, she slid her icy blue daggers down, to his knee, and her face went slack with hopelessness, because she could never do it. "Shut the fuck up! You're under contract, we're paying you, and we're not paying you to sit around re-reading all of your _Harry Potter_ books and taking nude selfies. Your surgery and recovery will be recorded, and that's that. If you cooperate, you'll get a huge push when you return, and a chance to reclaim your title, without any special provisions. If you want to continue being a spoiled brat, we'll bury you and job you out until the end of your contract. We'll make you look so bad not even TNA will want you when you're done with us."

Seth knew that WWE had the power to do just that. He knew that if he recovered from this, he wanted to keep wrestling, it was what he was born to do. He was born to be a champion, born for the spotlight. "Well, I don't want the cameras on me all the time. They can talk to me in the hospital before the surgery, film the surgery, talk to me again just before I go home, and then nothing until I'm in Birmingham to do the rehab. My life isn't a fucking reality show."

"No, Sethie, of course it's not. We're talking about a ninety-minute special on the network, not your own show. And, we don't have to have the cameras at your house while you're recovering, I understand that, and I will ensure your privacy is respected."

"How can I trust you, Stephanie? You promised me Hunter would not come anywhere near me, and he tried to rape me again in the locker room after my promo on Monday, and he's here now." Seth glared hatefully at him.

"Seth, despite what you think happened between us, we have to keep working together," Hunter said, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't fucking touch me!" Seth hissed, and pushed the hand away. "It's not like we were dating and it ended badly. I was your protege, the future of your company, your pet, your houseboy, your slave, and you _raped_ me."

Hunter chuckled and shook his head. "You know that's not what happened, Seth."

"Yes, Hunter, it is what happened. And you tried to do it again yesterday. I can't work like that. I _won't_ work like that."

"You worked like that for almost a year, Sethie. Why the sudden change?" Stephanie prodded. "You went from being a good house pet to a brat seemingly overnight, just as we had begun to allow you more freedom. But, that's just like you. You've always been completely ungrateful for everything we've given you."

"Are we almost through here?" Seth asked. He realized it had been hours since he'd last pissed, when he'd taken a drug test in the training room after they'd evaluated his knee. He had been clean, of course.

"Yes, just one more thing. We need your title."

"Give me my black gym bag."

Hunter dropped it on to his lap, and Seth winced at the impact to his bladder. He bit his lips and unzipped his bag, and pulled out the sexy black belt. In spite of everything, he didn't want to let it go. He touched his custom plates, and sighed. _I will reclaim you,_ he told his title, and his vision grew blurred from tears. When Stephanie yanked his belt out of his hands, two tears spilled down his face.

"Oh, stop your bawling. You'll get it back FedEx as soon as we crown a new champion," she told him, impatiently.

Seth wanted to shout out that it wasn't the belt itself he was mourning the loss of, it was his position at the top, but that would only make him seem pathetic, so he found something else to say. "Is he going to have a _special_ contract, too?" He asked, nastily.

"Why, I don't know. Maybe he will," Stephanie replied coolly, as she transferred Seth's title to her briefcase. "Don't forget to update your Instagram regularly."

Hunter smiled. "Get well soon, my pet." Then, he leaned in, and before Seth could react, Hunter gave him a kiss, right on the lips.

Seth did not have to play up his disgust; the back of his hand went to his mouth automatically. Hunter laughed, and he and Stephanie left before Seth could say anything. He was completely repulsed by that kiss, and that Hunter had actually had the balls to do it. He realized that as far as Hunter was concerned, absolutely nothing had changed in their dynamic, aside from Hunter's level of involvement in Seth's day-to-day life.

He wanted to brush his teeth. And, the restroom would be useful for another reason, too. He reached for his crutches, and realized he couldn't push his IV stand and hobble at the same time. Embarrassed, he pressed the call button. Almost immediately, a nurse popped into his room. She was middle-aged, and eerily resembled one of his elementary school teachers, with very short gray hair and glasses.

"Good evening, Mr. Rollins, I'm Jessica, and I'll be your nurse overnight. I was just on my way in to see if you needed anything."

"The restroom. And, you can just call me Seth."

"Can you hang on while I get your numbers and temp real quick? I'll be fast, I promise." Jessica went to the computer, and began typing.

"Um...yeah."

Jessica came over with a thermometer, and put it in Seth's ear, then took his blood pressure. "Your blood pressure's a little high, but that's probably because you need to go."

Seth nodded and squirmed a little as the nurse typed more numbers, then she came over and unplugged his IV stand from the wall. "Okay then, let's get you to the restroom."

Seth got on his crutches and hobbled to the restroom, hating the way they felt in his armpits; they had to be adjusted better. Jessica pushed his IV stand in after him. "I just need to get you a urinal. Even though you're in the restroom, we need to track your urine output."

"I'd like to brush my teeth, too. Could you bring me my ADIDAS gym bag? It's on the chair by the window."

"Of course, Seth. I'll be right back." Jessica left and quickly returned with all Seth needed. "I'll be just on the other side of the door, just open it when you're ready to come out, or yell if you need anything."

"Thank you."

After he'd been relieved and sanitized, and Jessica had put him back to bed and gave him another dose of pain medication, Seth took off his glasses and stared up at the ceiling, and wondered what the future had in store for him, until the drugs took over, and made his thinking more and more random until he finally fell asleep, with themes from Super Mario World playing in his head.

The End

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

 _Slave Seth_ was my third fan fiction, and originally intended to be just a short story. Now it's my first complete fan fiction mini-book. Ironically, I finished the original short story the same day Seth Rollins injured his knee the first time. I decided to keep going on it, and took _Slave Seth_ to four chapters, and for a long time, I considered it complete. But, after beginning its sequel, _Dirty Shield Brothers,_ I realized _Slave Seth_ needed a better transition to it, and ended up taking it to twelve chapters. The turns it took, specifically Hunter's raping of Seth, will require me to go back and edit _Dirty Shield Brothers_ in several chapters, but it can only make the story better.

Thank you to everyone who read _Slave Seth_ and enjoyed it. Special thanks to Matt, who told me about fan fiction, and made it possible for me to share mine with this nifty laptop; and to Kurt and Andrew, two of my favorite Canadians who inspired and supported me, and even had input in some of the story.

Everyone out there has…

a kink

a fetish

That some may think obscene

But everyone is different

Everyone has a "naughty" *taboo* thing

It's something special

Let it shine on…


End file.
